Anthropophagi
by Letting The Rain In
Summary: People are going missing in Colorado, at the exact location Jeff Tracy left his sons when he fled from Jericho. The Tracy brothers throw themselves into the mystery, hoping for another clue to their father's whereabouts. Sequel to 'Back to Basics'.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome, once again, into the madness I like to write! This is a sequel to 'Back to Basics', and I'm afraid it looks to be another long multi chapter. In which case, I most definitely need and appreciate your comments. All feedback welcome, and it's nice to connect with readers!  
**

**Usual disclaimers apply, meaning I'm no closer to owning the Tracy boys, or the Supernatural plots, than I am to landing on the moon. **

**I did have one anonymous review stating I had followed the plots to Supernatural. I would like to once more stress - as I did for Back to Basics - that I _am _following the plot to Supernatural, but doing it with the Tracy characters. I lay no claim to the plot lines (please, anonymous see above???) although I frequently add my own bits and change those that don't work for my purposes.  
**

**Once more I ask you to suspend belief and let your imagination take flight. As always, and most importantly, enjoy!  
**

* * *

It'd only been two weeks.

They'd changed. Not much, not to the untrained eye, but Alan could see it. Subtlety had never been the twelve year olds strong point, but he'd grown up surrounded by his brothers and any change in them struck a discordant chord on his subconscious.

Their hair hadn't changed, their faces, eyes, hands, anything Alan could remember remained the same, except … Scott rarely smiled, Virgil's hands were still, John's books were closed and Gordon hadn't found an excuse to take him swimming. Silly things, little things. Things that made up such a huge part of his brother's lives and Alan couldn't help but feel responsible for their absence. It was, after all, he that had had the vision that had left the Tracy brothers wandering America in search of a father that always seemed to be one step ahead of them.

Alan was anxious to see his Dad. Any moment of time not spent travelling seemed to echo before him, stretching endlessly while Jeff Tracy moved further away, leaving Alan impatient to get going again. He missed him badly, was frightened for him. Alan wanted very much for that deep, gravely voice to tell him everything was going to be all right.

It had only been two weeks, although it seemed far longer.

The beat up SUV they travelled in seemed like home now, the long stretch of road their back garden, a never ending thread of tarmac that pulled them through states and towns, scenery flashing by in monotonous greys and greens that lulled Alan to sleep, despite his best efforts. In sleep came dreams.

He dreamt of the fire often. Sudden flashes of red and orange woke him at night, leaving the impression of heat on his face and a fear that held him pinned. Long moments of silent panic followed, sleep elusive and unwelcome. So far, Alan had managed to keep these sporadic occurrences from his brothers. Scott thought the upheaval and days spent travelling induced the occasional early waking and restlessness and Alan was content to let him. Falling asleep became something to dread, and sleeping in the car was a risk Alan wasn't prepared to take.

However, his body demanded sleep all the same and wedged between John and Gordon, warm and secure, Alan nodded off.

_Fire had a voice._

_It whispered. It could roar. And, as Alan was learning, it could scream. He stared in horror around the room, the walls dripping with an almost liquid flame, its source the ceiling. Alan slowly lifted his head, reluctant to look but unable to avert his gaze. He knew what awaited him. Alan uttered a startled gasp of shock and horror and …_

_The room chilled with an audible snap. Alan's breath hung before him in a frozen cloud, the flames solidified. Curious, terrified, Alan reached out a trembling hand and brushed his fingertips against the smooth, polished surface of the fire. It felt like ice._

_As if activated by his touch, the room moved. The ground shuddered, the walls shook, he was heading for the ceiling or it was falling towards him, the flames parted and he could see Ruddy's face. Alan expected to see pain or suffering, some sign beyond the grave of his father's friends' torment, but instead Ruddy smiled slowly, as chilling as the deadened room surrounding them. _

_Before, Ruddy had told Alan to run, but here he remained silent. Anxious, Alan remembered the shadow man, the thing Scott had called a demon and he spun to find it emerging from the wall, seeping through the frozen flames. It wore Rudolph Meller's face and Alan screamed._

"Alan! What is it?"

Alan came to with a surge, like a diver coming up for air. Gordon held one wrist and knee, John his shoulders.

"Alan!" Scott demanded again, twisting in the front passenger seat, Virgil checking over his shoulder swiftly despite the heavy traffic on the road.

"I'm okay," Alan breathlessly rushed to assure his brothers. "I was dreaming."

"What of?" John asked.

Gordon squeezed his knee before letting go. "That was some awakening, Sprout."

Alan's mind rushed. His brothers knew everything about him, all about his freaky powers and they'd shared close accommodation for the last few weeks. Alan felt them closing in on him, pressing too close and he needed some small measure of privacy, something that was his alone. Dreams, he felt, should at least be your own property.

"You know that one when you think you're falling?" he asked, watching each of the other four relax, not regretting the lie. His brothers were too tense as it was.

"You need to lay off the cheese, man," Gordon advised him. Virgil chuckled from the driver's seat and even Scott's lips twitched. John remained emotionless and Alan belatedly remembered the twenty-two year olds particular talent. The boy shot a guilty glance at the blond from under his eyelashes, but John didn't appear to want to out him. Alan couldn't tell if he knew he was lying or not, quickly ducking his head again as John glanced at him.

"Where are we?" Alan asked, anxious to divert the focus from him.

"We reached Colorado a couple of hours ago," Virgil replied.

Alan sat up straighter. "Are we there?"

John had searched the co-ordinates their father had left in the journal, finding Blackwater Ridge in Lost Creek and little else. No vengeful spirits, no sudden, unexplained deaths, no history of the supernatural. If Jeff Tracy had been heading here, John concluded, it was for a reason outside the hunting world.

"Just passed the sign," Scott replied now.

Alan smiled, allowing hope to flare. Dad could be waiting for them just around the corner. He ignored the little itch at the back of his mind that told him he was going to be disappointed. It didn't have to be precognition, he told himself. It could just be his subconscious protecting him with caution.

John threw cold water on his enthusiasm, his voice soft with regret. "I can't find Dad."

Alan shot him a glare, wondering if he had caught his thoughts, but Gordon nodded as well.

"I can't translocate to him, either," he admitted.

Scott nodded, but focused elsewhere. "John, what can you pick up?"

"Mostly the same thing, for once," John smiled. It was easier to block out group thoughts, less of a babble, words repeated over and over again. A little monotonous, perhaps, but less of an effort to ignore. "Grizzly's."

"Bears?" Virgil queried.

"S'what I'm getting," John agreed, slipping unknowingly into the local speech pattern. It was a side effect of tapping into so many minds at once, and it never lasted long, but it was always amusing to hear the crisply correct Tracy slurring like an old time miner. Scott turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement, missing what Gordon saw.

"Ranger's office," the red head pointed out.

Virgil wordlessly pulled in and the brothers gratefully exited the vehicle, stretching stiff muscles. Alan didn't move, reluctant to leave the warmth of the car and watching his brother's shiver slightly in the chilled air of Colorado.

"C'mon, kid, shake a leg," Scott called.

Alan stuck his leg out the car, wiggled it and retreated inside once more. Gordon roared with laughter.

"Funny," Scott sighed sourly, while Gordon continued to chuckle. "Alan, _move._"

"Why are we staying here?" Alan grumbled, joining the others and allowing Virgil to lock the car. "Can't we just keep going, find Dad?"

Scott shut his eyes in his time-honoured method of keeping calm and even Virgil pinched the bridge of his nose, a sure sign he was nearing the end of his tether. Alan was about to relent, feeling a little guilty, but his longing for his Dad overruled. He scowled, crossing his arms and drawing on his stubbornness.

"Alan, this is the only lead we've got," Scott told him, opening his eyes again.

"It isn't a lead! Dad's not here," Alan told him belligerently. "Please, Scott, can't we just go?"

Scott eyed his baby brother. Alan was pale, trembling, shadows had gathered beneath his eyes and he was obviously out of sorts. Alan wasn't naturally a whiner, although he was known for expressing his opinion. Still, Scott issued a red alert. Alan was upset, possibly falling ill and Scott's anger drained away into sympathy. He moved forward to wrap an arm around Alan's shoulders.

"Go where?" he asked, softly. "Alan, we're running blind here. There _is_ nowhere else to go."

Alan bit his lip, twisting away from Scott's comforting embrace. He didn't want Scott to try to make things better, he wanted his Dad, but he was met with Virgil instead.

"Dad wanted us to be here," he reminded the boy, reaching out to cup Alan's neck, running his thumb soothingly against the pulse. Alan's dark blue eyes locked onto his brother's soft brown ones, falling under the familiar spell. "There's always a reason, Allie, we just can't see it yet."

"He could be getting away," Alan mumbled.

"Or he could have left us a message here. Give this place a chance, all right?"

Alan nodded miserably, allowing Virgil to tug him into a quick hug.

"Why don't I go scouting for a motel?" John offered quietly.

"Can I come?" Alan asked morosely.

John gestured with a jerk of his head and the two blonds left.

"Virge," Gordon shook his head, "when, exactly, did you train as a Jedi master? Seriously, dude? Mind control."

The mechanic smiled. "Just call me Darth Virgil."

"You need to teach me how to do that," Scott sighed, ignoring his brother's banter. "Some day's I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere with him."

Virgil grimaced. "You're the father figure, Scott. He's going to test you more than the rest of us."

"It's what you get for operating under Dad's authority," Gordon agreed.

* * *

Alan followed John across the road. It wasn't busy, but in the distance a car was approaching in each direction. They could cross with time to spare, but John hurried anyway. Alan, still reluctant to be in the town, dawdled mutinously. Half way across, the wind blew up, sending dust stinging into Alan's eyes. He rubbed at them, blinking away the irritation. Dropping his hand …

_Alan opened his eyes to darkness. _

_He glanced around, trying to find something his senses could latch onto, seeing nothing. He could hear the sound of his own ragged breathing, exaggerated in the stillness. He felt his heartbeat quicken, and he kept turning, desperate for sight, his eyes unnaturally wide and straining to make shapes out of the emptiness. His balance compromised with the lack of vision, Alan's turning led to toppling and he knocked into something solid. It swung gently, bouncing back into him, obviously hanging from something. Alan noticed it was heavy, and a thick smell threatened to choke him, causing him to gag. He spread one hand over the thing, terrified to discover what it could be but needing to know. It was big; there was cloth and sticky wetness and it gave no warmth. Alan's hands shook, his throat closing in fear as something ended in a wet stump. _

_Then light._

_Faint, distant, not reaching where he stood but causing Alan to blink as his eyes watered after the long absence. The thing beneath his hands vanished into darkness. Alan could see nothing where it had previously been, his hand moved through unobstructed air. Drawn to the light, he took a cautious step forward. Something moved in that distant glow; tall, superhumanly fast and Alan spun to try to get another glimpse of it. He could see no further in the pitch like area. As he came full circle, he ended suddenly face to face with a man. Jumping back, Alan cried out in alarm._

_The man held the light, a lantern, shuttered and dim, but casting enough of a glow for Alan to make out details. He wore a hooded sweater beneath his jacket, the material over his head combining with the lantern to cast dark circles around his eyes. The lantern highlighted his nose, cheekbones and lips, leaving his other features steeped in shadow. He stared, blood on his face, his lips pressed into a thin line, heavy brows drawn together._

_Alan gulped and his eyes travelled unwillingly over the man's clothes. Shining wetly on his jacket was a black stain Alan's mind identified as fresh blood, rips running through it and him. Clumps of material hung and Alan's stomach churned, convinced he could see parts of the man's torso stripped as well._

_He lifted his eyes back to the man's face._

"_What do you want?" he asked, his voice a shadow of itself, a frightened whisper._

_The man said nothing, holding Alan's gaze. Then, slowly, deliberately, he lowered his eyes to Alan's hand. Alan followed his stare and lifted it shaking, turning it palm up. _

_Blood, rusty and flaking, flecked his fingers, caked in his cuticles. Swallowing thickly, Alan lifted his eyes once more. The man disappeared, taking the light with him and Alan was left alone in darkness, a wild thing running loose around him and a dead man's blood on his hands._

_

* * *

_

Scott ran his hand through his hair. "He knows I'm not being a hard arse for fun, right?"

"He knows," Virgil assured him. "Ultimately, it's you he'll turn to when he's ready."

"I don't like that boundary between us," Scott admitted.

"Not many parents do," Virgil agreed. "But for now you just have to wait it out."

Scott sighed and Gordon clapped him on the shoulder.

"Alan loves you, Scott. He's just being a kid," he said seriously. Scott smiled gratefully and nodded.

"I know. I think he might be getting a cold or –"

The squeal of tires cut through the air, a car horn blasting, then another. It was enough to send the Tracy boys running towards the sound.

* * *

John turned to say something to Alan, only to find him standing in the middle of the road, shock still, a blue car approaching.

"Alan!" John cried, dashing back, waving his arms at the oncoming vehicle. The driver applied his breaks, realising the two weren't going to get out of his way, twisting the wheel and veering into the other lane. The driver of the other car swerved around him, blasting its horn before stopping also.

John ignored them, reaching Alan and tugging him to the ground, suddenly weak with fear, panic and relief. Alan gasped, coming out of whatever trance he'd been caught up in, fighting John off wildly and the two drivers approached. Passers-by gathered with them, drawn by the commotion.

John wrapped both arms around the twelve year old as he sat, swinging one leg over both of Alan's in a futile attempt to restrict his movements. The onlookers were starting to talk and John picked up their distress as they wondered what he was doing to the boy. Suspecting his brother was suffering his usual memory block, John acted fast. He needed to stop Alan from saying anything that might cause more suspicion.

"It's okay, kiddo, I got you," John whispered, pressing Alan's face against his shoulder.

Alan struggled against him, blind with panic, his breathing wild, but John was stronger, holding the boy tight and hating himself for it. He was going to leave bruises on his kid brother's skin, he was sure.

A woman knelt by him. "What are you doing? Let him go!"

She began to try to prise Alan from him, causing the boy to cry out in panic, heightening his fear and fuelling his struggles.

"He's my brother," John snapped. "Get off him."

"What the hell's wrong with him?" the driver of the blue car demanded, angry with fright.

"Epileptic," John answered curtly, gratefully seeing his brothers running for him.

"Jesus, is he fitting?" the woman from the second car asked hysterically.

"Just give him a moment, he'll be fine," John insisted from between his teeth, attempting to find his little brother's mind, thinking to speak to him that way and assist in bringing his memory back.

"Ain't you s'posed to lay 'im flat?" the man asked.

"I've done this before," John replied coldly. "Could you just give us some space?"

"John!" Scott dropped by his side. "What happened?"

"He had one of his fits in the middle of the road," John explained, maintaining his tight grip on Alan. "He's okay; he just needs to calm down."

John locked eyes with his eldest brother, concentrating hard. Keep it simple, he reminded himself.

_Amnesia. _

The word flooded Scott's mind, and for a moment he reeled with the tidal wave of thought John had put behind it. But not for nothing was Scott a decorated Captain of the Air Force and he processed the information John had given him and was acting before his equilibrium had returned. His mind clung to the one word. Fit. John had told everyone Alan was epileptic.

"John, _talk_ to him," he instructed. "Virgil, move these people back. Gordon, help me hold him."

The Tracy's sprung into action, the tiny crowd moving under a combination of Virgil's persuasive voice and physical presence, gentle words spoken even as he spread his arms and shepherded them away. Gordon gripped Alan's wrists, restraining him with as little force as possible, stroking his hands and adding his voice to John's. Scott took off his jacket, wrapping it around his little brother and taking the boy into his own arms. No longer forced to blind himself against John's shoulder, Alan relaxed a little, blinking up at the three faces who stared down with worry. Scott lifted one hand to stroke Alan's hair, speaking into the child's ear.

"Easy now, Sprout. Come on back to us. You're all right, just breathe."

Alan struggled for a moment to think of the right name, before crying out.

"Scott!" he wailed, bursting into tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**I've recently received a couple of reviews claiming I don't state that my plotlines come from Supernatural and am ripping them off. **

**I'd like to make it abundantly clear that in this writing exercise, I am following the episodes. No plagiarism is intended and I certainly don't pass the plots off as my own. All I am doing is using the main characters from Thunderbirds instead of the main characters from Supernatural and taking them through the episode. **

**It's simply a harmless bit of fun, where I write how I would have done the episode. Yes, I do add in little bits of my own, a) to bring my own spin to it and b) to help it fit with the characters I have chosen to use.**

**Its not my intention to stir up anger or indignation and I won't continue with this if people aren't taking it in the vein it's written in.**

**This is fanfiction. It's a chance to let our imaginations run wild. Don't let's ruin it.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Before we begin, I'd like to say how grateful I am for all the messages of support you sent. Those who didn't sign in when they wrote, I'm sorry I couldn't reply to you individually, but I hope you read this message.**

**Secondly, (to stop me getting into trouble with anyone else!) please note, this story is following the plotline to the Supernatural episode **_**Wendigo**_**. It doesn't belong to me. But I have added bits and pieces in to spice things up and populate the world of the Tracy brothers.**

**Enjoy!

* * *

**

The owner of a nearby diner had been part of the crowd, wakened from a slow afternoon by the sounds of the cars. As Virgil moved forwards, he gripped his arm, dropping his voice and ignoring the curious glances thrown their way.

"You can bring him into the diner, son," he offered kindly. "It's warm and it's quiet, and I can stop people from following."

Virgil gave him a quick once over, judging the honesty of the man. He was late fifties, grey and moustached, smaller than any of the full grown Tracy's and right now, the only option other than the SUV. Virgil nodded gratefully, going to Scott, who held the sobbing child in his arms in tight fear. Virgil was relieved when the owner didn't follow him. Alan was babbling about a monster and a dead man and blood on his hands.

Virgil swallowed, grimacing. Whatever Alan had seen, it obviously wasn't pretty. Scott was rubbing his back, trying to hush him and speaking softly, but Virgil could see the cracks in his older brother's control.

"Diner," he said, indicating the building with a nod of his head, "owner's clearing the place out."

Scott nodded absently, his attention focused on Alan. The boy's tears were stopping, but he remained huddled in his brother's arms. When Scott tried to stand, Alan simply clung to him. Scott shared an anxious glance with John.

"Did the car hit him?" he demanded quietly, lifting Alan and standing with Virgil's help.

John shook his head. "I stopped it. He's probably just in shock."

Virgil glanced from Scott to the diner, judging the distance. "Want me to take him?"

Scott felt Alan tighten his arms around him. "I got him."

He slipped one arm under the boy's knees, the other remaining around his trembling shoulders. It was undignified, but it was easier to carry him this way and more comfortable for Alan than a fireman's carry. The diner's owner hurried ahead of them, opening the door wide for Scott and his precious burden, shouting at the two locals who'd been unconcerned with the commotion outside to take their burgers and get going.

"Go on, go on," he urged. "You can bring the plate back later, Jerry. Mike, just take the damn burger, would you?"

Flapping at them like an excited goose, he herded them out the door. The men, to be fair to them, didn't look as put out as they maybe ought to have and John surmised they had quite possibly been through an evacuation of the diner before. Shutting the door and switching the sign to closed, the man then hurried back to where Scott was sliding into a booth, Alan refusing to let go of him and almost climbing into his lap.

"I'll make him a cup of tea," the man offered. "Nice and sweet, good for shock."

"Thank you," Virgil replied. "For everything."

The man left and the Tracy boys focused once more on their brother. Alan wasn't crying anymore, and he had stopped babbling, but he didn't seem to want to meet any of their concerned gazes either, his head buried in Scott's shoulder.

"Allie?" Scott began, his tone one of deep love and reassurance. "Talk to us."

"I'm sorry," Alan mumbled, his voice low and hoarse from crying. "I'm sorry I'm being stupid."

"You're not being stupid," Gordon told him sincerely. "You had a bad scare, anyone would be rattled."

"You wouldn't cry," Alan sniffed, looking up finally.

Scott ran the back of his hand over Alan's cheek, then pressed it against his forehead. "You've a slight temperature, kiddo. You're not feeling too good, right?"

Alan nodded miserably.

"It probably went a long way in making you more upset," Scott soothed. "Nothing to worry about, okay?"

Alan nodded again, but didn't look convinced.

John glanced quickly in the direction the owner of the diner and gone, but could see no one. "Tell us."

Alan lifted his eyes worriedly. "It was dark. There was something with me, something fast. I don't know what, I didn't get a good look. And … and something else."

"Do you know what?" Virgil asked, but Alan shook his head.

"No. Then I saw a man with a lantern and I had blood on my hands. I think …" Alan shivered. When he spoke again, it was a whisper. "I think it was his."

Scott moved to wrap his arm around him again, and Alan gripped him, hard. "I don't want to do this anymore! I don't want this!"

"Allie," Scott began, but his brother dug his fingers in harder.

"Make it stop. Please, Scotty, I just don't want to see any more."

Scott stared into the blue eyes, so like his own and it broke his heart to shake his head. "I can't," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I just don't know how."

Alan pushed him away, angry. "I don't want it!"

"Hey," John quickly jumped in. "Come here, kiddo. You're reacting to something else, I think."

"Us?" Virgil asked.

John glanced at Scott. "Perhaps."

Scott allowed John to take Alan from him, sliding back out from the booth and fighting for calm. Alan was an empath and right now his control was stretched to breaking point. It had happened before, after visions. Alan literally absorbed everything around him, abilities fluctuating and it was important that his stimuli radiated calm. Scott was anything but.

For a moment he watched Alan talk quietly with John, the older blond lifting his thoughts to better enable him to understand Alan's frightened, angry reactions. Abruptly, he turned on his heel and headed for the back room, away from Alan's sight. He took a moment to steady his nerves, leaning his forearm against the wall and his head against it. He shut his eyes and strived for calm. Without turning, he knew someone had followed him.

"I'm drowning, Virgil. I can't help him and I can't stand to watch him suffer."

Virgil gripped his brother's arm supportively. "You can do this."

"How? How do I stop something I can't understand?"

"The same way you got Gordon through the monsters under the bed."

"This isn't a nightmare, Virge, it's real," Scott replied, turning to face his brother. "Whatever he's seen is out there and it's _killing_ people."

"The principle's the same," Virgil insisted stubbornly. "Treating it like something he should fear isn't going to help him."

"He should fear it."

Virgil shook his head. "Not in a vision. I asked John to research them as best he could. He doesn't think anything in a vision can hurt Alan."

Scott took a moment to think. "How sure is he?"

"About 92 percent." The elder two boys turned to see John had joined them. "Alan's asking for you. Both of you. He's calmed down and thinking something big, but I can't get a lock on it."

"All right." Scott motioned Virgil to go ahead, but stopped John when he went to follow. "You need to be able to lock this thing down, Johnny. There's gonna be times in extreme situations when I need to know what everyone's thinking."

John clenched his jaw momentarily, but let it go. "I know. I'm on it."

"Good," Scott sighed. He took a calming breath and pressed all his anxiety down, hard. Clapping John on the shoulder, he forced a smile onto his face. "I know it's not easy, especially with me pushing you."

"But it's important," John agreed, giving his brother a smile. "I know."

They moved back into the other room. Scott nudged his brother. "92 percent?"

John laughed. "I can't help it. Numbers are easy. It's actually 92.357 percent, give or take."

"And the boys call _me_ a control freak."

"Captain Control Freak, actually."

They joined everyone else at the table, the owner disappearing once again after setting down a pot of coffee, mugs and Alan's tea. He gently ruffled Alan's hair on his way past and shut the door to the back room.

"What have you got for us, Sprout?" John asked, opening the conversation.

Alan didn't connect with any of his brother's eyes, but his pale face was set, determined. "We need to see what that thing was."

Whatever Scott had expected, it wasn't that. He took his time to answer. "Why do you think that, Alan?"

It was said in utter seriousness, an invitation to convince the others and an old strategy of Scott's. It enabled them to share everything they wanted and for Scott to show he was listening and would agree, if only he had a good reason. The Tracy boys watched Alan take a deep breath, gearing up for a debate.

"Something's out there and it's hurting people," he began, small face frowning in concentration. "I didn't feel it before, I didn't want to, but there's a bad feeling. People are … uneasy."

It wasn't a word Scott associated with Alan's vocabulary, meaning he was feeding off the people of the town. He sat back, folding him arms and waiting for more.

"They're not scared though," Alan continued.

"Probably don't even realise they _are_ uneasy," Gordon noted and Virgil nodded.

Scott privately agreed, but spoke to Alan. "What else?"

"We need – I need – to know why that man came to me. It's not just being nosy," Alan insisted, looking up for the first time. "I want to help him."

Scott was silent a moment. "You realise if we stay he'll likely contact you again?"

"Yeah," Alan agreed, rubbing at his forehead tiredly. "I know. But it was horrible and I can't leave him like that."

Virgil caught Scott's eye and the elder boy read the meaning behind the gaze. This was new. Alan didn't like visions and he certainly didn't feel compelled to help the subjects of them, the Welch kids aside.

"What else?" Scott asked again.

Alan scrunched his face up, a sign he was going to say something that they wouldn't really like. "It could have Dad."

"What?" Gordon's question was more of a yelp and John seemed to jump slightly. Alan rushed on.

"I didn't see him! But what if that thing's got him and he's … asleep or something? John wouldn't be able to feel him, right? And Gordon couldn't translocate to him, could he?"

A small silence followed. Finally, John shifted.

"I could read his thoughts if he was dreaming," he said. Alan sighed and fiddled with his mug.

"Great."

"If he was unconscious, however," John continued, "I doubt I'd be able to. They're two different states of mind."

Scott glanced at his red headed brother. "Gordy?"

"I dunno, I've never tried," the teen shrugged. "Don't know anyone who makes a habit of knocking themselves out."

Scott shot him a look, extending it to Virgil when he snickered. Eventually he turned back to Alan.

"You said yourself, this place is all we've got," Alan reminded him quietly.

"I know," Scott agreed. "All right. I'll agree with you. Virge?"

The big brunette lifted one shoulder laconically. As if there was any doubt, his body language suggested. Scott glanced at John and Gordon, who both readily agreed.

"Okay," he said. "Virgil, John, get over to the local ranger's office. See what you can stir up."

"The ranger?" Gordon asked.

"Seems like the local hotspot," Scott justified. "He'll know of anything suspicious."

* * *

The ranger's office looked to Virgil like a cabin. The walls and furniture were wood, maps and photo's adorned every available inch of space. Staring up at a picture of a particularly large bear, Virgil wondered aloud if maybe a grizzly was what Alan had seen.

"You think Yogi's moved on from picnic baskets?" John asked.

"Something like that."

"Can I help you, boys?"

As one, the Tracy's turned to face the ranger, a balding man with an efficient, business-like air about him.

"I hope so," John enthused. "We're writing a thesis, wondered if you could answer some questions."

The ranger stared at him. "No."

John shot Virgil a worried look. "No?"

"No. You're wondering if I'll give you information. Friends of that Hayley girl, right?"

Without waiting for a reply, the ranger turned from them. John gave his brother another look, one that clearly said 'we're losing him'.

"You're right," Virgil agreed quickly, causing the ranger to snort in contempt. "Well, sort of. My brother's a friend of Hayley's and he'd rather not be, if you see what I mean?"

Virgil moved closer to the man, tucking one hand behind his back and waving it wildly at John. The blond didn't need to be a mind reader to work out what he meant, and started to zero in on the ranger's thoughts.

"What the hell did you hope to gain by coming here?" the sheriff demanded of him. "She's already wasted enough of my time."

Virgil answered. "Come on, man, you've been there, right? When you'd do anything to impress a girl?"

"What of it?"

"He just thought if he could help her out …" Virgil left the suggestion hanging.

The ranger snorted again, this time in amusement.

"I know she's making too much of it," Virgil continued, "but he's got this puppy dog look and it was making me ill. I promised to come with him, and came up with the story just to give myself some peace."

The ranger looked resigned, obviously buying what Virgil was selling. Virgil pressed home.

"Look, I'm sorry for wasting your time. Him too, right bro?"

"What?" John, concentrating hard, jumped, startled. He'd been close to finding Hayley's address. He blinked, trying to remember what he'd heard of the conversation. "Yeah, yeah I am."

"All right," the ranger sighed, warming to Virgil. "But I'll tell you just what I told her. They're boys. They go into the woods, they're having fun, roughing it and fishing and playing Davy Crockett and they forget to phone home. Happens all the time."

"That's what I told him, but he wanted to try anyway," Virgil agreed. He glanced at John, who nodded, signalling he had gotten what they wanted. Virgil smiled back at the ranger. "Thanks for your understanding, sir."

"Do me a favour and tell her that you agree with me, would you? She wanted me to send a search party out there."

"A search party?" Virgil whistled, getting into his stride. "But it's only been …"

Virgil trailed off, realising he didn't really have any idea how to finish the sentence. The ranger, who he'd hoped would pick up where he'd left off, simply lifted an eyebrow.

"Two days," John stepped in. Virgil allowed himself to breathe again. "You wanna talk to someone, bro. Get that memory looked at."

Embarrassed at his near slip, Virgil pushed him towards the door. "We've taken enough of the ranger's time. Thanks for your help, sir."

"Tell Hayley that she's overreacting. Maybe she needs a hobby, eh?" the ranger added, winking at a pink faced John. The Tracy's left quickly, Virgil striding ahead.

"Don't say anything," he told his brother, as John laughed silently behind him. "Just don't say a word, John."

* * *

Scott was watching him. He'd been watching him since he'd come back from speaking to the owner of the diner they were still sat in. Scott had assured the man, Lee, that they were fine, that he shouldn't lose money because of them and his kindness and had persuaded him to open the place back up. He'd even ordered some food. Not many had wandered into the diner since, Gordon was for once content to eat in silence and that left Scott sipping his coffee with nothing to distract his attention from Alan.

Alan, for his part, was trying to eat. He was sure the waffles tasted good, the smell was making his mouth water. But it was also making him feel sick. Whenever the saliva welled on his tongue, all he could think about was the wet, sticky blood on his hand and the way the ghost had looked at him. Silent, accusing and angrily asking why Alan was disturbing him and Alan standing with the blood still wet on his skin.

Nausea rolled in Alan's stomach again and he finally gave up all pretence, pushing the plate towards Gordon. Scott frowned in concern, but Alan was tired of giving him explanations and simply drew his jacket tighter about him, hunkering down in his seat and staring moodily out the window.

Gordon snuck Alan's waffles onto his own plate and carried on people watching, trying not to attract Scott's attention. He was obviously in mother-hen mode and any Tracy within sight was considered fair game. The door chime jingled and two men entered, big, burly and smelling of the wilderness. Gordon watched them as they headed for the counter, ordering coffee and food enough to feed a workforce. They were quiet, sombre, they had a stillness about them that Gordon couldn't stop watching and Lee lent across the counter to speak to them.

"Gil? What's happened?"

"Grizzly tracks."

Gil bent to his meal, but his friend set down his mug. "Big ones."

"We get lots of bears, Mark."

"Found its lair, too," Mark told him.

Lee leaned back, breathing out heavily through his nose. "What of it?"

"Cloth mixed with the scatt."

Gordon turned to Scott, finding his brother just as interested in the conversation as he was.

"Come on guys," Lee said, lowering his voice and glancing across at the watching boys. "Bears raid old campsites all the time."

Gil stabbed at a sausage. "We set traps. Probably nothing doing, but it don't hurt to be safe."

"You don't seriously believe there's a man eater out there?" Lee asked.

Mark shrugged. "We've had no missing persons, Lee. Don't get wound up, okay? Just being careful, all right?"

John and Virgil returned then, sliding into the booth.

"Ranger's being bugged by some girl who's convinced he needs to go the woods," John said, helping himself to a waffle from Gordon's plate.

"You know, that's not the weirdest thing you've ever said," Gordon told him.

"It's not a bear," Alan hissed furiously. "Why can't they see that?"

"What's not a bear?" Virgil asked, confused.

Gordon quickly filled the other two in. Virgil turned to John.

"You got her address?"

"Yeah."

Virgil turned to Scott. "We should have a word with this Hayley girl. I think she might have a missing person she's been trying to report."


	4. Chapter 4

**I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who showed their support for this little bit of fiction and of course, to all my lovely reviewers!**

**This fic follows the second episode of Supernatural's season one. I'm using the main characters from Thunderbirds - the Winchesters, wonderful as they are, don't feature. I have twisted the plot to fit with my purposes, and I've added my own touches, but the broad plotline belongs to Kripke.**

**Enjoy!  
**

* * *

Hayley opened her door with an anxious, impatient expression. Alan, standing before Scott with his brother's hand on his shoulder, was immediately struck by the waves of worry that flowed from her. Almost instinctively, Alan glanced back at Scott.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late," Scott smiled, extending the expression to Alan when he saw the boy looking up at him. "But the ranger sent us over."

Hayley didn't move from the doorway, looking from Scott to Virgil and then disbelievingly at Alan.

"Not him," Scott admitted. "May we come in?"

Hayley stepped back, opening the door wider. "The ranger sent you?"

"Yeah," Scott agreed amiably. He introduced himself and Virgil. "He won't send rangers, but we do the same sort of thing."

"You do?" Hayley led them through the hallway and into the dining room. It contained a sideboard and one large table, at which sat a teenage boy a few years older than Alan. He was using an old laptop, but Hayley pulled it away from him. She gently ruffled his short hair, but he ducked swiftly out from under her hand with a small grunt of annoyance.

"What can you tell us?" Virgil asked Hayley.

She shrugged. "Not much. Our brother Tommy and his friends went camping and I haven't heard from him in two days."

"Is that normal?" Scott asked.

"No," Hayley frowned. "It's not. We have a rule. No matter what, you stay in contact."

"Could his vid phone have broken?" Virgil asked reasonably. "The battery, maybe?"

"He sends a video email," Hayley explained. "It's become very important to us, whenever we're apart."

"Ever since our parents died," the teen added earnestly. "Tommy wouldn't forget."

Hayley reached for him again, laying her hand on his shoulder and this time he let her. She faced Virgil. "Tommy knows his equipment. He knows how important it is."

There was pain in her voice now, and the Tracy's shifted uneasily.

"Do you still have his last message?" Virgil asked, ending the uncomfortable moment.

"Here," the boy lent forwards to the beat up laptop again. "I was just watching it."

Scott and Virgil crowded round and Hayley gently moved the teen out of the way. "Gary, why don't you and ..." she paused, glancing at Alan.

Scott smiled at the small blond boy. "Sorry, this is Alan, my brother."

"Why don't you and Alan watch TV in the other room?"

"Come on, Hayley," Gary protested. "I want to be in on this."

"There's nothing to be in on," Hayley told him quickly. "Go on."

Gary looked likely to protest again, but he caught Hayley's tired, stressed expression and relented. He nodded towards Alan, who followed him from the room.

"I hate that," Gary grumbled, slouching into the sofa. "It's not fair; Tommy would have let me stay."

Alan knew that feeling. "What's Tommy like?"

"He's a lot of fun," Gary replied. "He's older than Hayley, but he's not half as serious. He's laidback, ya know?"

Gary trailed off and Alan, his empathic talent so sensitive at the moment, could feel his nail biting worry. Wondering what Scott would do in such a situation, Alan awkwardly patted Gary's shoulder.

"He makes it easier," Gary finished resolutely, head bowed and brows drawn together, eyes dark and far away. "After our parents died ..."

He trailed off again, but Alan could understand what he meant. The two boys sat in silence for a moment, thinking of their respective losses. Alan began to get a feeling for the missing Tommy. He sounded a lot like Gordon.

* * *

"I've hired a guide," Hayley said, setting the video to play. "I'm going up to look for Tommy."

Virgil shot his brother a quick glance, before taking Gary's vacant seat. Scott could understand his brother's apprehension, turning his attention to the girl with a frown.

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"I'm not going to leave him up there!" Hayley insisted. "No one is helping us. I'll find him myself."

"Hayley, that's why we're here," Scott began, but she shook her head.

"He's my brother."

"What about Gary?" Scott asked, although he kept his voice soft, quizzical, in no way accusing.

Hayley relaxed marginally. "I'm sending him out of town for a couple of days. An elderly aunt's place."

Scott eyed her thoughtfully. "What do you think happened?"

"Honestly? I don't know. There's always the danger of Grizzly's, but Tommy knows how to keep himself safe. He's done this lots of times and he's careful. He never camps where there's bear activity."

"What about a bear wandering into the area after they set up camp?" Scott pressed.

"It's a possibility," Hayley conceded. "Other than that, they could have had some sort of accident."

"How many went up?"

"Three, including Tommy."

"Wouldn't one of them have contacted someone?" Scott asked.

Hayley bit her lip, nodding. "If it was within their ability, we'd have heard about an accident. I think they're all in trouble."

Virgil stood from the laptop, his expression thoughtful and far away. The eldest Tracy son studied his brother's face, reading the look. Scott turned back to Hayley.

"What time are you setting out?"

* * *

The town hall was the oldest building in Blackwater, Gordon assumed. One of those mismatched constructions; it had been built, added to and had various parts replaced over the years. This resulted in a smorgasbord of styles, each representing the era they had been put up in and each telling a story that urged a person to explore.

Gordon ran a hand over the rough stone face of one side in wonder, imagining what had been said, decided and acted upon inside. Gordon gave himself a mental shake, putting his musings to one side for the time being. He could feel Johns questioning stare resting between his shoulder blades, although the blond waited patiently for him in silence.

Gordon turned to shoot his older brother a grin, before extending his hand.

"Come here."

John moved forward and allowed Gordon to grip his shoulder. Then the two were gone as if they had never been there, not even a ripple in the evening air. John had always likened the experience to beginning to blink in one instance and finishing the action in another. Time, he felt, could have done anything during the space where he didn't exist in the world and he always felt slightly cheated that it hadn't taken the opportunity.

Gordon was pleased to find the inside of the building looked a lot like the outside had. He was quicker to recover from the displacement and reassembling of his molecules than his brother, already moving towards where he hoped he'd find the death register. John lumbered after him, shaking his head to clear it, sitting himself at one of the two computers and beginning a search on news stories.

The two worked in silence, no need for speech. Periodically, one of them would make a sweep of the small building, checking they weren't about to be disturbed and taking a chance to stretch their legs. Eventually, Gordon left the records to peer over John's shoulder at the news reports.

"I can't find anything remotely supernatural," he complained. "If you wanna live to a ripe old age, I'd suggest moving to this place."

John glanced at his younger brother. "You might want to rethink that," he advised, pulling up a list he'd compiled.

Gordon read it quickly. "Accident, bear kill, missing … John, what is this?"

"A pattern," the blond replied ambiguously.

"A pattern?" Gordon shook his head. "Johnny, I think you've been staring at the screen for too long."

"Look at the dates," John told him patiently. "Each death predates the next by twenty-three years."

"Really?" Gordon asked, genuinely surprised. Numbers had never made much sense to him, except those that pertained to his sea faring pursuits. "Do they have anything else in common?"

John nodded. "They all occurred in the same area. Within a fifteen mile radius."

"If I was a betting man, I'd lay odds on that area being where Hayley's friends went camping," Gordon grinned. "Looks like we struck gold, John-boy."

"Fools gold," John agreed. "None of these stories are giving me anything. I can't see what it was that killed these people."

Gordon skimmed through some of the files John had left open on the screen. "Hold on, what about this? Some kid survived a bear attack that killed his parents."

John turned thoughtfully. "Think he might have seen something else?"

"It's worth a try," Gordon reasoned.

"Don't set your hopes too high," John warned. "It was forty-six years ago, Gords. The mind strives to protect itself, he may not remember anymore. Says here he soon admitted it was a bear."

Gordon shrugged. "Wouldn't you, if you were threatened with a psychiatric ward?"

"Let's go."

* * *

The lone survivor of the attack was a man named Shaw. He'd never married and lived alone in a small cabin at the top of town, away from the mountains and the woods that covered them. Standing at his door, John looked at his younger brother.

"Ready?"

"Tracy charm set to maximum strength," Gordon responded.

"Is that a yes?"

Without waiting for a reply, John knocked on the door.

For a man in his late fifties, Shaw was in good enough shape. He had the appearance of a once powerful man running to fat, his muscles beginning to lose definition and a broad gut slowly sagging. Despite the hour, he welcomed the boys into his house, and was happy to answer their first questions. Eventually, John brought the conversation round to what Shaw had seen the night of the attack.

His easy manner faded, replaced by a long, hard look. "It was a bear," he said slowly. "You saw the papers, right?"

John nodded. "We saw them. But we'd like to know what you thought it was."

"I was just a kid when it happened. I'd just woken up and I was scared, confused."

Gordon, perched on the arm of a chair, leaned forwards. "With all due respect, your first report to the rangers wasn't confused."

"You claimed you saw something and you were adamant it wasn't a bear," John agreed. He shared a look with Gordon, who gave his consent to honesty. "We don't believe a bear's up there now."

"Anything you can tell us would be helpful," Gordon added. "How'd it come into the tent?"

Again, Shaw was slow to answer. "Weren't no tent, son," he said eventually. "We had rented a cabin and it came through it."

"Through it?"

Shaw stood, pulling up his shirt at the back and turning around. A dreadful scar marred his skin, deep enough to twist the muscles as his body had knitted back together. He lowered his shirt, sinking into his chair once more.

"A bear could do the same damage, I grant you," he said, voice low. "But I saw it. Didn't look like no Grizzly I ever knew."

John stood straighter from where he'd been leaning against the door frame. "You actually saw it?"

"I went to sleep by the fire that night, woke up to a noise outside. Thought it was a bear, they like to get into the trash sometimes. Then it came in – I'll admit those cabins were flimsy, but even the biggest Grizzly'd have to take its time to do something like that."

"What did it look like?" John pressed.

"Tall, but skinny. Fastest thing I'd ever seen, too. Didn't have time to scream, it sent me flying in one movement. Lucky for me, it wasn't interested in a kid."

Shaw bent his head, remembering something he hadn't spoken of for over forty years. His eyes, when he lifted them to connect with the boys, were haunted. "My mother was torn apart in that cabin and she was the lucky one. It dragged my pa out into the woods. I could hear him."

John couldn't help himself. Without his consent, his powers kicked in, taking the picture of the bedroom from the distraught man's mind. Having finally been given freedom to explain all that had occurred, Shaw's thoughts were awash with images and they were flooding John's sixth sense. With effort, the psychic pushed back at the thoughts, swallowing down the bile that threatened to make an appearance and ending the onslaught. Taking a deep breath, John focused on keeping his guard up.

If Gordon had noticed anything amiss, he didn't react to it. Instead, he kept Shaw talking. For his part, Shaw was lost in his own world.

"Why do you think it didn't bother with you?" Gordon asked.

Shaw looked at him helplessly. "I was too small."

"What do you mean?"

"They were meals. My mother was eaten by that thing, right in the bedroom."

Gordon tried not to grimace, although he allowed sympathy in his voice. "And your dad? They found him?"

Shaw shook his head. "That thing had a lair and it took pa to it. Couldn't eat him then, but I bet it … stored him. Why else would he be taken?"

John joined the conversation again. "Do you know what direction it took?"

"Couldn't tell you," Shaw admitted. "Once I saw what was left of the bedroom, I passed out."

He fell silent, and the Tracy brothers' took a moment to bow their heads in respect for the dead. Finally, Shaw spoke again.

"You really think it's back? It was a long time ago, whatever it was must be dead by now."

"Maybe," John conceded, although knowing the supernatural, it was more likely to be very much alive. "It could have had offspring."

"You won't find it," Shaw told him confidently. "I made it my business to know how to track any animal those woods harbour and I never found a trace of that thing."

* * *

Another night, another motel, Alan thought wearily as he crawled under the covers of the latest dubious bed he'd been pointed in the direction of. Sometimes he thought Scott was enjoying it all too much, leaving the soft beds their money had normally brought in favour of roughing it, because he was obviously choosing the worst place he could find in every town.

Alan shivered, still fully clothed, tucking his socked feet up close to his body. Scott had subjected him to a check over by Virgil, who just had to have the coldest hands Alan had ever known. Virgil had attempted to tell him it just felt that way because he had a slight temperature, but Alan wasn't buying it. Since he was small, he'd firmly believed everyone with an interest in medicine had cold hands. It was like some unwritten rule. Or a dark conspiracy to make the patient feel even worse. Maybe they were all secretly the undead? It'd explain their ability to not crack a smile during the examination.

At least Virgil didn't hang around, checking Alan's swollen neck glands with those icy fingers and asking short, easy to answer questions.

"Head ache?" Taking Alan's temperature.

"A little."

"Throat sore?" At those glands again.

"Yeah."

Shining a pen light into Alan's eyes. "Dizzy?"

"Tired."

"Coughing?"

"No."

At this, Virgil had done the strangest thing. Yanking his brother's clothes up, he'd placed his ear – ears could be as cold as hands, Alan discovered – against Alan's chest.

"Virge? This is weird."

"Deep breath."

"Your ears are freezing!"

"Breathe, Alan."

Rolling his eyes, Alan did as he was told. Virgil didn't tend to carry a stethoscope with him, having to fall back on the old fashioned method, Alan knew. Didn't stop it being weird though. Virgil shut his eyes for added concentration, telling Alan to breathe out slowly. They repeated the exercise with Virgil placing his other ear against Alan's back.

"Couldn't you have used the one you already warmed up?" Alan whined.

"Sorry, Sprout," Virgil murmured. "Don't you know cold ears hear better than warm ones?"

Alan would have believed him, had Scott not covered his mouth with his hand at that precise moment. Alan scowled at his eldest brother.

"He's not allowed to tease me when I'm ill," he pointed out. "Tracy family rule number seven."

Scott lowered his hand. "He's right, Virge. Behave yourself."

Virgil wrapped a blanket from the nearest bed around the boy, taking a moment to rub his thumb along Alan's neck in apology. The twelve year old was at least assured there was some hope for Virgil. The undead hadn't got him completely yet if he was teasing against the law.

"What's the verdict?" Scott asked him.

"Just a throat infection. Spread to his chest already, but I doubt it'll be anything serious."

Alan frowned. "I haven't got a cough."

"Yet," Virgil agreed amicably. Alan pouted. Maybe the undead could have Virgil after all.

Scott ruffled his put out little brother's blond locks. "Why don't you go to bed? You look beat, kiddo."

So here Alan was, unable to sleep because he was so cold and listening to the murmur of voices from across the room, as he brother's discussed whatever it was they were planning. Straining his ears, he heard his eldest brother's voice. From a distance, it sounded a lot like Dad's.

"I wasn't planning on bringing him out there, anyway," Scott was insisting. Alan was under no allusions who 'he' was. Alan was being denied something, although at the moment he was too tired to care what.

"Which one of us has to stay with the horror?" That was Gordon, without a doubt.

There were several moments of silence.

Gordon groaned. "Oh, what? Noooo!"

Alan smiled. If Gordon was going to call him a 'horror', he deserved everything that was coming to him. With that thought, Alan finally slipped into sleep.

* * *

Gordon was not pleased. He glanced over his shoulder towards the bundle of blankets that he assumed the child was sheltering under, mutating into something bad tempered and gross, like a giant insect in its cocoon. He looked back at Scott.

"No. Not a chance. I can't deal with it the way you and Virgil can. Even John has a better success rate than I do."

"You'll be fine," Scott told him. "And stop calling your brother 'it'."

Virgil smiled. "Besides, this is an opportunity to heal old wounds. You're both older now, you should be able to control your tempers."

"Heal old wounds? Virge, I've still got the scars!"

"Don't worry, it should sleep a lot."

"Virgil," Scott admonished.

John looked up. "What do you mean, 'even John'? I'm perfectly capable of looking after Alan."

"Glad you could join us, space cadet," Gordon growled. "Is there a time delay up there on Mars?"

Scott stood up. "Gordon? Can I talk to you in private?"

"Is that so there's no witness to the beating?" Gordon muttered under his breath, standing and following his oldest brother out the door to the motel. He pretended not to see Virgil and John's smug smiles as he left.

Scott gave him a minute to settle down once he shut the door to the room.

"Do you remember what you said to me the first time you held Alan?"

"Oh, God," Gordon groaned. "You're gonna bring that up? Again?"

"'Scott', you said, 'I'm gonna be the best big brother ever. I'm gonna do what ever he needs. I'm gonna look after him, Scotty. I promise.' "

"I was seven! Everyone's allowed to talk rubbish when they're seven."

"You believed that if you made a promise, nothing could make you break it."

"I also used to believe in Santa Claus."

Scott's expression turned decidedly steely and he advanced a step. "You promised Alan."

Gordon stepped back. "Scott …"

"You promised me." Scott took another pace.

Gordon sighed. "All right. Stop with the heavy routine. I'll stay – but you owe me!"

Scott grinned cheekily, opening the door to the room again. "Put it on my tab."

"Your tab's just about out of credit. And pay-back's a bitch," Gordon called as Scott went inside.

Glancing heavenwards, Gordon let out a frustrated sigh.

"Why do I feel like the sidekick in a bad B movie? _Attack of the Killer Snot-Machine! Starring Alan Tracy as the slime producing, blood hungry monster! And there was that red headed bloke in it too_…"

Gordon sighed again.

"Wonderful."


	5. Chapter 5

**Here we go again! Take a deep breath, hold on to your hats and lets go!**

* * *

Gordon frowned at the twelve year old. Hair stuck in every direction, Alan glowered back at him over the bowl of cereal he wasn't even pretending to eat. Gordon felt a little hurt. If it had been any of the others, Alan would have at least made the effort to poke at the soggy mess with his spoon.

"I'm not going to the store," Gordon told him.

"Didn't ask you to," Alan responded in a voice that sounded like the last rusty vocal chord of a terminal smoker.

Gordon ignored the twinge of pity that flared briefly. "I'm not allowed to go to the store."

"Not my fault."

"Scott told me not to leave you. Under any circumstances. Those include, but are not limited to; unforeseen, extenuating or mitigating."

Alan scowled. "Still not my fault."

"You understand what I'm saying to you?"

"You understand it's not my fault?"

It sounded like a bark, the rasping snap of a rabid mongrel. Gordon was grateful there was no snot so far. He was happy to live in a slime free world.

"You should have told Scott if you wanted something else for breakfast."

"You should have asked me if I wanted breakfast."

Alan stood, clothed in a thick hoodie, sweatpants and, from what Gordon could tell, two pairs of socks. It wasn't exactly shorts weather, but Gordon didn't think it was that cold.

"I'm going back to bed," Alan announced, sounding miserable and unwell and Gordon's bad mood took a guilty backseat. The kid did look like crap.

"You want some more of that cough syrup?" he asked sympathetically.

"Can I have some Tylenol?"

"That bad, huh?"

Gordon reached into the little bag Scott had dropped on his bed that morning as a wake up call. Gordon had noticed his older brothers were all dressed and ready to go and realised Scott had already been to the store while he and Alan continued to sleep. Even Virgil was awake, or as awake as he was ever going to be at this hour, sipping store brought coffee and fastening his coat. Scott had brought Gordon's attention back to the bag, telling him he could give Alan some syrup when he woke up, to dose him every four hours after that and if he was having trouble with his temperature or a headache, some Tylenol.

It was kids stuff, but Scott still made Gordon go over the guidelines before waking Alan to say goodbye. The pre-teen, bleary eyed and desperate to go back to sleep, allowed their three older brothers to hug him, took a spoonful of the cough medicine from Gordon and curled back up again.

Now, Gordon gave his brother a tablet, made sure he had a bottle of water by his bed and retreated.

* * *

_Darkness surrounds him. Pulsating, rolling, it sweeps over his senses, enveloping him in velvet._

Gordon sighed as Alan's breathing evened in sleep. Best thing for the kid, if he was honest, but boring as hell for him. He'd watched as Alan had buried himself in the blankets he'd stolen from his brothers the night before, wriggling to get right in the middle of the nest he'd made himself, trapping himself in the warmth and shutting out the room and Gordon.

Peering at him now, Gordon could only see the bright shock of golden hair amid the grey covers. Alan normally liked to stretch out on his stomach as he slept, it was a sign of illness when Alan curled up under the covers like a creature hibernating from the winter. Gordon sighed, looking around the room and wondering how he was going to amuse himself.

"_I never hurt anyone."_

_The voice that comes out of the void is quiet, but it isn't a whisper. It has no respect for the nothingness of the place, no fear of breaking the silence. It sounds deadened, as if the steady black swallows it. It comes from just behind Alan, spoken into his ear and he freezes, afraid to turn around even though he's prevented from seeing. There's a chill in the air he recognises and his heart, thumping against his ribcage, doubles its efforts._

Apparently, the decorator of the motel had thought people would have travelled to Blackwater Ridge in order to work. While the rest of the room was mismatched and of the basic variety, there was a small desk added to give the occupant a place to drop a laptop or a sheet of paper and get cracking. Gordon sat in the chair that accompanied the desk, upon which one foot rested, ignoring the magnificent view of the mountains in favour of watching Alan. Unknowingly, he bit on the nail of his left thumb.

_A faint glow is spreading from behind him and almost against his will, Alan turns. Human souls, he has learned, seek the light. It doesn't illuminate his surroundings anyway. He comes face to face with the hooded stranger from before, who turns from Alan, taking the light with him. Alan remains rooted to the spot._

Alan's breathing changed, no longer even and he began to move restlessly. Gordon could hear the beginnings of the cough Virgil had predicted and he grimaced. Poor kid was going to get it bad by the sounds of things.

_The man walks a short distance, stopping and lifting the lantern higher. Alan can hear something now, a creak, the sawing of a laden rope as it swings slowly. There's a taste on the cold air, one that Alan has become very familiar with and his mouth dries. As he draws in breath, frost bites into his lungs. Winter has teeth, and a taste for cruelty._

As a rule, the Tracy gene pool produced fairly healthy specimens. Naturally, childhood illnesses had come and gone – in a family of five children, what came around, went around – but the common cold and cough rarely plagued them into adulthood. One thing Gordon did know, however, was when a Tracy fell ill; he tended to do it in spectacular style. If you were going to do something, you might as well do it right. It was a family motto and it extended into every area of their lives.

_The man looks over his shoulder, his face a skull bleached white by the dim light of his lantern, his eyes twin depths. His gaze bores into Alan, bold, challenging, measuring. Then he moves; lowering his arm, he is flesh once more. He steps to one side, revealing that which had drawn him. Alan screams._

Another thing that always made Gordon hate being sick, was the fact he often had the worst nightmares of his life during the illness. As another restless toss sent the bedclothes sliding, Gordon wondered if his little brother suffered the same way.

_Bound wrists, curled hands. The only reminders that this was once human. Beneath them, the arms are missing muscles, the body is torn and flayed, a leg has been broken away. It rotates slowly on its rope, and Alan recognises the hood that hangs limply at the back. It mirrors the head it adorned in life, slumped forwards on that ruined chest. _

Gordon stood slowly, trying to get a good look at Alan without waking him. The child had rolled onto his back, sweaty face flushed with fever. Strands of thick blond hair stuck to his face and even as Gordon watched, Alan's shut eyes tightened. The twelve year old let out his breath harshly, laying his cheek flat against the pillow now, unable to find peace.

_Ice has formed within Alan. It breaks with each breath, forming over its own cracks and splintering anew. His palm tingles, blood frozen to his skin. On the outer reaches of the shallow pool of light, more figures appear. Alan calls to them, his voice shrill, looking for Tommy. Tommy, who is so like Gordon, who is so full of life, death could never be a barrier._

Gordon came to a decision. Crouching by the bed, he reached out to shake Alan's shoulder. The boy responded with a murmur, but didn't wake, so Gordon shook him again, harder this time.

"Alan?"

_Alan's voice dies, swallowed by the empty shell of this prison. The figures are looking at him, some sad, some angry, all gouged. No movement, no speech. When the creature rushes Alan, it's out of nothing, so sudden it hits him before he can see what it is._

"Alan?"

With a strangled gasp, Alan opened his eyes. The breath triggered a cough, deep and bone rattling and Gordon quickly pressed the water bottle into the kid's hand. Alan seemed shocked to find him there in his room and Gordon, belatedly realising he hadn't woken Alan from a nightmare, but from a vision, backed away swiftly.

"It's all right, I'm your brother," he hastily explained.

* * *

"It was moving too fast for me to see," Virgil explained hastily. He stopped to glance at Scott. "Couldn't you have gotten a rucksack?"

"What's wrong with a duffel?" Scott asked defensively.

"Don't you think rangers would have, you know, equipment?"

"A duffel is equipment," John joined Scott's side. "If you're military."

"Stop helping me," Scott grunted. "It was all we had in the trunk. The store didn't exactly sell a range of bags along with the toothpaste and flu remedies."

"Whatever," Virgil shrugged. "As I was saying, I didn't get a look at the thing on the video clip and when I froze the frame, it was blurry from the speed it was moving at."

"Did you get anything useful?" Scott asked, still sore about the duffel jibe.

"What Shaw described to John and Gordon last night sounded a hell of a lot like it," Virgil replied, not in the least fazed. "I think we're dealing with the same thing that attacked him and his family."

"Wonderful," Scott snorted. "That's very helpful Virgil. Still no idea what it is?"

Virgil pointed at John. "That's why we have him."

"That's what I like so much about these family outings," John quipped. "It's the love."

"Shhh," Scott hushed them. "There they are. Hayley!"

Hayley exclaimed her surprise that the three Tracy boys had turned up, admitting she hadn't thought they'd actually come. She was even more surprised when she saw John.

"What did you feed Alan last night?" she laughed.

Scott smiled. "This is John. Alan's with my other brother, Gordon."

"There's more of you?" Hayley queried. "Are these two related to you as well?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Virgil told her, a soft smile playing with the corners of his mouth. "We look nothing alike."

"Are you ready?"

The voice matched its owner. Gruff and unimpressed, the man dismissed the men in favour of speaking to Hayley. Scott took the opportunity to size him up. Middle aged, he'd kept his figure. Blunt and square, shorter than Virgil, Scott nevertheless assumed he could handle himself. In fact, he reminded him of one of those documentary makers who went looking for rare snakes or poisonous spiders, thrilling in endangered species and big man eaters.

"This is Roy," Hayley introduced him quickly. "Roy, these are the men I was telling you about."

Roy spared each Tracy a single glance.

"Right," was all he said and Scott saw Virgil and John exchange glances. Roy headed off, Hayley following and Virgil brushed past his older brother.

"You're not allowed to hit him," he warned.

"Unless you can prove it's to save his life," John amended. He lifted a finger in caution. "No cheating."

Scott was beginning to realise it was going to be a long hike.

* * *

Before Alan had been born and Tracy Industries boomed out of the stratosphere, Jeff Tracy had made it his personal mission to show his sons the great American outdoors. They had camped, fished, hiked and found excuses to stay up late. The prospect of spending time with their father and without their mother insisting they wash was the highlight of their school holidays. Alan had missed a lot, although the Tracy patriarch had managed to take him occasionally. Scott guiltily remembered promising to take his littlest brother camping the next time he was on leave.

Scott wished his father had continued taking them on trips into the wilderness. It wasn't that he was lost. Scott had, after all, completed several training sessions that involved being dropped somewhere in the woods and having to rough it for the next seventy-two hours. If push came to shove, Scott could survive in the harshest of terrains and he was more than prepared to ensure his men made it out alive with him.

Virgil was moving easily through the scrub too, eyes taking in everything, face revealing nothing. He had that annoying ability to be as one with whatever surroundings he found himself in; as shown on the memorable occasion eight year old John had filled his boots with worms and insects. While their parents hadn't seemed particularly pleased, Virgil's famous calm hadn't rattled. In fact, Scott recalled, Virgil hadn't blinked an eye, not even when he'd shoved John into the pond two days later as revenge. Virgil wasn't bothered by the slightly sinister air to the woods, looking for all the world as if he'd been brought up in them.

No, the problem, Scott felt, was John. Although blessed with a willowy grace, the tall blond did take on the appearance of a startled giraffe on occasion. Gifted genius he might be, but clearly he'd spent far too much time in front of a computer or running track. Track, Scott recognised, was orderly, precise and rarely extended to the woods. If it did, John wouldn't have to worry about it for more than a couple of hours. His lack of wood lore showed, although Scott supposed he should be glad John wasn't the squeamish type. At least he wasn't going to pitch a fit if he got dirty, or found a bug. Scott made a mental note not to let John stop to study anything.

Scott wasn't the only one to have noticed John. Roy kept shooting the young Tracy derisive glances, seeming to take great pleasure in every stumble. Scott was beginning to get pissed off with the tracker. Virgil, ahead with Hayley, was either choosing to ignore it – give that man an Oscar – or he really hadn't noticed.

Scott was a leader, a commander of men and as such knew when a wise man chose to delegate. Moving quickly up, he nudged Virgil.

"Have a word," he hissed.

"He's doing that giraffe thing?"

"Oh yeah."

Leaving Hayley with Scott, Virgil dropped back.

"Dude, be cooler."

If Scott had tried it, John might have chosen to take offence. But, as Gordon had pointed out already, Obi-Wan Kentracy was on their side and Scott couldn't help but be relieved. He certainly never wanted to try going up against his brother.

"We're heading west," John answered. "I'm trying to memorise our route."

"You don't think Roy's gonna get us down again?" Virgil asked him.

"I'm being prepared."

"Oh?"

Scott could hear the laughter in John's voice as he explained himself. "I think Scott might decide we can do better without Roy."

"You make it sound like Scott's got a short fuse, John," Virgil answered, knowing their big brother could hear them.

"Don't count on staying in the same camp. All I'm saying."

Scott smiled apologetically at Hayley.

"You know why I was so surprised you turned up this morning?" she asked abruptly, apparently having missed the conversation behind her.

"Why's that?" Scott asked.

"You don't look like rangers. You're hiking in sneakers, jeans and I think that one that was just here was wearing biker boots. Have you even packed any food?"

Scott smiled. "I told you we weren't regular rangers. Excuse me."

The eldest Tracy son moved forward again, coming to walk with Roy. Scott was attempting to prove a point to his pesky younger brothers. Control was, reportedly, his middle name.

"What do you think we're gonna find?" he asked, conversationally.

"Son, I've been hunting in these woods for a long time," Roy replied, not bothering to look at him. "We're not gonna find anything we're not expecting."

"Right," Scott agreed. "And you came loaded for bear?"

Roy finally turned to look at Scott. "What of it?"

"Have Yogi or Bambi ever hunted you back?"

Roy took Scott's arm in an iron grip. "You'd better watch your step," he warned.

Scott lifted an eyebrow and without breaking eye contact, Roy stabbed his walking stick into the ground. The snap resounded in the area, bouncing off trees and coming back to haunt Scott. Roy scoffed at him, before moving wordlessly on. Scott gritted his teeth, before meeting his brother's concerned eyes.

"Bear trap," he acknowledged, damning himself for being a fool. If he wanted to get everybody off the mountain safely, he couldn't afford to get into a pissing contest with the guide. And if Virgil was right, he couldn't slip up again.

* * *

Alan stared out the window. It had taken him a long time to remember who he was, much less where he was and he knew Gordon was blaming himself for that. Alan felt bad for his brother, had even tried to explain it was probably just the throat infection making him feel lousy and not as able to recover so fast, but Gordon had squeezed his shoulder in such a way Alan suspected the red head thought he was just trying to cheer him up.

His emphatic ability was in full swing and Alan found it draining dealing with Gordon's emotions as well as his own, so he'd focused hard on that drained feeling. Tired himself after the late night and the stress of calming Alan down, Gordon had fallen asleep where he sat. Alone, Alan tried not to think of the vision and especially avoided looking at his palm. The blood wouldn't be visible, rationally he knew that, but he could see it in his minds eye and he doubted he'd be able to cope with that right now.

As always, the remnants of the vision continued to swirl in his mind, stray feelings and images. Alan allowed his eyes to wander up and down the street in search of something to distract him. He was feeling rough, but going back to bed just wasn't an option. Pressing his hot cheek against the cool pane of the window, Alan was surprised to see a familiar figure hurrying up the street.

Alan stood. With a quick glance at Gordon, he made up his mind and slipped from the room, wanting to know what Gary was doing back in town. Once in range, however, all thoughts of going back to report to his brother fled. Gary was feeling determined and Alan fed off it, gaining new strength.

"Gary!" he called. "Wait up!"

Gary stopped and turned. "Alan?"

The twelve year old reached him, smiling. "Where're you going?"

"No way," Gary spun and quickly continued. "You're not going to talk me out of it, kid."

Alan bristled at being called a child, considering Gary had only two years on him.

"Talk you out of what?" he demanded. "I could help you."

"I'm going to find Tommy. How are you going to help?"

"My dad always told me never to go someplace strange alone. How well do you know those mountains?"

Gary didn't reply immediately, but he didn't stop walking. "My whole family's on that mountain," he said eventually. "You think I'm gonna stand around waiting for them to come home?"

Whether it was the fact Alan had spent too long cooped up, guarded by overprotective brothers, or if it was simply an overflow of Gary's emotions, Alan didn't care. He didn't spend too long exploring the reasons, but reached out to stop Gary.

"I'm coming with you."

Gary stared at him, before shrugging and walking away. "Try to keep up."


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to everyone who left a review, really do appreciate them! To those who didn't sign in, sorry I can't thank you personally, but I hope this suffices. I appreciate you too!**

**I'm still light years away from owning the plot lines, characters and such, although some bits I have added myself as it's relevant to our boys.**

**Enjoy!

* * *

**

This part of the mountain was much steeper, keeping conversation to a minimum. Roy was the point man, setting the pace and keeping it steady. Hayley was showing her colours, tough and independent she followed her guide unquestioningly and without asking for breaks.

The Tracy's were earning their stripes too, their bodies relishing the physical demands of the hike. Scott initially suspected Roy had set such a gruelling march in order to push their buttons, but each man was handling it well. Even John, with no time to daydream, had rose to the challenge. However, as the sun began to dip in the grey sky Scott revised his first thought.

Night was coming early to the mountain and Roy wanted to reach what he had determined should be their camp. Scott still couldn't bring himself to like the man, but he was beginning to find some respect for the guide. He glanced quickly behind him. Virgil had settled, unasked, into rear guard duty, he was pleased to find. With his back well and truly covered, Scott was able to concentrate on other matters.

Ahead, Hayley called for a halt, dragging a large map out of her rucksack. Roy doubled back to her and she laid the tattered chart on the ground for him to see. She had drawn a circle over a small area, Scott noticed and she pointed to it now.

"This is the location of Tommy's video mail," she said, looking at Roy. "We're not far from it, right?"

Roy nodded thoughtfully, reaching out to place one thick finger against another area. "This is our target site," he told her. "If we're visited by the grizzly, and we're not able to frighten it off, we've options."

He didn't explain what those options might consist of, but Scott could read the map as well as the tracker and he could see several safe places, approving of Roy's choice.

"We'll search for Tommy's camp first," Hayley insisted, but Roy shook his head.

"Not a chance, girl. We're in bear country and its getting dark."

Hayley stood her ground. "I hired you to take me to my brother's camp. Either we go tonight, or I go alone."

Roy ground his teeth in frustration and the three Tracy's kept quiet, watching the power struggle between the two.

"All right," Roy acceded finally. "But we're gonna have to hurry if you want to keep the light. You ready to run?"

Hayley took a deep breath, nodding. Virgil and John unknowingly readied themselves to move, and Scott knew he was doing the same. Roy had one final thing to say, however.

"If we can't find it by four thirty, we're heading to our base camp, no questions, no buts, no arguments."

He didn't give Hayley a chance to reply, standing and launching into a run in one fluid motion. Scott waved John and Virgil onwards as Hayley hastily threw her map into her bag. She glanced once at him, before following his brothers. Scott took a second to look at the woods, before setting after her.

* * *

It hurt to breathe. Really hurt. When he swallowed it felt as if shards of glass had lodged themselves into his throat and when he coughed the agony made his eyes water. But Gary's determination was still burning bright and Alan had latched onto it, an invisible thread that sent strength into Alan's tired muscles and urged him onwards.

It did feel good to be out in the fresh air, though. It was cool against his skin, waking him from the stupor he'd previously lagged in and Alan took strength from that also. But it still hurt to breathe. He coughed again, wet and deep.

"Dude, you sick or summat?"

Alan raised his head to blink at Gary. "I'm fine," he insisted, the other boy's grim resolve aiding him once more. He shifted the pack on his back, glad they had swung by Gary's place to pick up essentials.

Gary shrugged. "We'll have to go through the night," he estimated. "Hayley said Tommy camped about midway up."

Alan peered up at the imposing mountain. They'd barely begun, he realised, despite how long they'd been hiking. His heart sank. It was already beginning to get dark. He coughed once more, annoyed Virgil's diagnosis had been correct.

"You sure you're all right?" Gary asked again, sounding more concerned this time.

Alan took a moment to regain his breath. "Can't go back now," he reasoned in a poor imitation of his usual voice. "We gotta keep going."

Resolutely, Alan moved past the other boy and continued upwards. One foot after another, he told himself. Just like running track, just like John taught you. Take it one foot at a time.

* * *

The remains of Tommy's camp was a testament to savagery. Hayley stared at it in horror, her breathing loud and on the verge of panic. Her wide eyes took in every detail her torch light touched, her body shock still.

Roy was already moving through the wreckage, lifting torn tent material and inspecting the damage. John and Scott exchanged a glance before the twenty-two year old joined the man, drawing his own conclusions from the evidence. Scott hoped they would, at least, have an answer by the end of the night. He sought out Virgil, indicating with a jerk of his head that the other man should scout the perimeter. Virgil melted into the near darkness and Scott hesitantly rested his hand on Hayley's shoulder.

The touch seemed to wake her. With a cry of alarm, she headed into the campsite, dropping to her knees to touch with shaking hands everything she could find that belonged to her brother. Scott followed slowly, picking up a hand held game console with a cracked screen, before tossing it aside. He said nothing as he followed Hayley through the scattered possessions, turning her gently aside from the streaks of blood that adorned nature and man's mark on it alike. Droplets lay in scattered arcs, huge gashes of red decorated large areas.

As dusk matured into early night, John slowly stood and moved to Scott.

"We need to get out of here," he told his brother. "Where's Virgil?"

"Right here," the other Tracy emerged from the trees. "John's right, we can't stay here."

Scott glanced sharply at his second brother, detecting the note of unease. He nodded and headed for the guide. Roy was sat on his haunches, frowning in thought and Scott felt he was even now attempting to explain the damage to himself as a bear attack.

"We need to get moving," Scott urged him. "We can't stay here."

"There's no bodies," Roy hissed, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Yeah," Scott agreed. "I'd be surprised if you had."

Roy turned quickly to him, but Scott pressed on.

"There's a lot of blood here and you know as well as I do, it attracts wildlife." Scott's eyes bored into the older man. "Let's get out of here before we get a visitor."

* * *

"What did you find?" Scott asked Virgil an hour or so later. Night had fallen now, a midnight black with no stars, their light covered by rolling clouds. The brother's had moved somewhat away from the other two, keeping their voices low as they talked.

"Nothing," Virgil answered. Although he remained calm and apparently unconcerned, the glow of the distant fire showed his eyes were dark with worry. "I didn't see any tracks, not one."

"You wouldn't," John told him, flipping through their father's journal. Scott was surprised; he hadn't noticed John had brought it with them.

"Why's that?" he asked.

"It's a Wendigo," John announced, finding his page and spinning the book so his older brothers could see it. Virgil quickly shone his torch onto the description of the creature, shaking his head before he'd finished reading.

"They're not known in this area," he pointed out. "They're more of a Native Indian creature."

"Maybe," John conceded, "but I think that's what we're dealing with. Look, this is an old mining town, men trekked the mountain and stayed the winter to dig."

"What of it?" Scott asked.

"Winter lasts a long time up here," John continued. "When I was researching for possible leads I read about a party of miners who'd gone mad and killed each other one particularly harsh year."

"Go on," Virgil invited.

"Members of particular tribes believe a Wendigo is something a human can turn into, or be possessed by. They're cannibalistic and they tend to occur in very lonely regions," John paused to assess his brother's reactions. "What if one miner did kill the others? To survive, for food, once they'd run out of all options? Only, it wasn't enough and he had to go into hibernation, just like a Wendigo does?"

Scott and Virgil shared uneasy glances. They'd heard of Wendigo's from their father and his hunting buddies and facing one wasn't an appealing notion. They tended to surface in a ritualistic pattern, hunt for a short period and live off their victims until they hibernated once more. They were near perfect hunters and notoriously hard to kill.

"Could it be anything else?" Scott asked uneasily.

"Yeah, could be," John admitted with a shrug. "But it does explain why Shaw's father was carried off once it had taken its fill of his mother. And the missing people, the 'bear attacks', they've occured at regular intervals. Also, it doesn't leave tracks. Virgil would have found bear tracks, you know that."

John pointed to a rough drawing of the creature his father had torn out of a book somewhere and pinned next to his description of his hunt.

"Look at that thing's claws," he urged. "I can't think of anything else that could leave that amount of damage behind it."

"Jesus." Scott shook his head. "I'd give a lot for you to be wrong, Johnny."

John's face was grim in the fire light. "Me too."

"What do we do against that thing?" Virgil asked, bending back to the page.

"It doesn't like fire, but it's clearly not afraid to enter a camp. For now there's precautions I can put in place," John told him. "It'll secure the camp, I doubt it's got its larder full yet and it could easily be roaming tonight."

"Precautions?" Scott queried.

"A boundary," John answered. "Some symbols around a circle, the Wendigo can't cross them. I'd better get started, they look complicated and the Wendigo could be out and about."

All three of the Tracy boys shivered after John's statement, but the blond bravely pressed on.

"Can you distract the other two? I don't want them crossing the lines or scuffing the symbols."

As John moved off to begin building the boundary, Virgil glanced at Roy and Hayley, sitting apart in silence. Risking his brother's wrath, Virgil leant over.

"I guess I've got to keep Roy entertained while John's doing his thing, huh?" he asked softly. "Tell me, Scott, how you gonna occupy Hayley?"

Scott treated him to withering glare, before moving to stand by Hayley's side.

* * *

"They were supposed to be staying at the lodge," Hayley said softly, staring into the fire. "But the weather had stayed so mild, they wanted to camp instead. I knew it was a bad idea, but I couldn't come up with a good reason and Tommy just laughed my warnings off."

Tears trickled down her cheeks and she took a shaky breath.

"He always does that. Laughs at me while I sit there worrying about him. Does he think I enjoy being the responsible one? He's supposed to be the one that takes care of us, but he can't be serious, can he?"

Scott had no answer for her, although he could appreciate where the feelings were coming from. He was often left being the man juggling all the balls, terrified he'd miss a catch and leave one of the boys hurt.

"I'm sorry," Hayley sniffed, cuffing at her eyes.

"It's all right," Scott told her. He glanced quickly at his brothers and Roy, before taking her hand and pulling her towards the edge of the line John had marked in the ground, shielding her grief from stranger's eyes with his body.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Hayley whispered, not able to meet Scott's gaze. "He's not coming home."

"We don't know that for sure," Scott soothed.

Hayley swallowed, lifting her eyes to Scott's. "I wanted to find him," she told him. "I wanted to see him, speak to him, so badly. I wanted to be able to shout at him."

She looked on the verge of tears again and Scott swiftly pulled her into an embrace. "You will," he promised. "You can shout at him to your hearts content."

Hayley laughed through her tears, wiping her face and making no move to break his circling arms. They stared at each other for several seconds and Hayley allowed Scott to lean in closer. The back of his fingers grazed her cheek, brushing a lock of hair off her face and she tilted her head until their lips nearly touched.

"Who are you really?" she demanded and Scott closed his eyes as he realised he had been played. The tears and the fear had been real, but she wasn't above using them to break down his defences.

"Right," he muttered to himself, glancing away and lowering his arms.

Hayley hadn't finished. "Because I called the ranger to thank him and he'd never heard of you."

Scott smiled weakly. "Never?"

"What the hell are you guys playing at?" Hayley hissed, poking him in the chest. "My brother is missing and you're playing games?"

"No," Scott reassured her hastily. "No, Hayley, it's not like that."

Hayley stepped back, crossing her arms angrily. "Then what is it like?"

Scott weighed his options. "Our Dad is missing. His last known co-ordinates are this mountain. We just want to find him."

"Are you telling me the truth?" Hayley demanded, although a lot of her fire had gone. "Really?"

"Yeah," Scott nodded, breathing out heavily. "We thought whatever happened to Tommy might have happened to Dad. Since Tommy was the last person to go missing, it was too good a lead to waste."

Hayley was silent a moment, watching him. "Why the subterfuge?" she asked eventually. "Why couldn't you just be honest with me from the beginning?"

"Habit," Scott shrugged apologetically.

Hayley seemed to accept this and nodded. "You gonna tell me the truth from now on?"

"If that's what you want," Scott agreed and watched her body relax. Hayley repositioned herself so close he could feel her body heat radiating from her.

"Good," she breathed. "Because I'd like to like you."

So saying she brushed her lips against his and was gone, moving to sit by the fire next to Roy and Virgil.

* * *

John found it impossible to sleep. The trouble with being the one with the answers was that the knowledge kept pounding away inside his skull. The more he learnt about Wendigo's the less he liked them and the greater the fear of actually finding the thing became.

Added to his problems were Hayley's exhausted thoughts, going over old conversations with her brother and wondering tearfully if she would ever get to speak to him again so loudly within her own mind, John found it hard not to hear her. It was only the odd stray thought, but away from the normal buzz of noise he was used to, they were coming through loud and clear.

Also, Virgil was snoring. Rolling over in his sleeping bag and coming to a decision, John kicked his older brother in the shin. Virgil woke with an angry groan and John, feigning innocence, asked if he was all right.

Virgil closed his eyes, lying back down. "I swear to God, Johnny, if you woke me up, I'm going to hurt you. Where's Scott?"

"Doing his rounds," John answered. There was silence between the brothers until John shifted again.

Virgil sighed softly. "What's up?"

John bit his lip, staring up at nothing.

"Johnny?"

"I was just thinking."

"You're known for it. What about?"

"Dad." John propped himself up on his elbow, just able to make out his brother's face in the darkness. "I'm scared we're not going to find him."

Virgil laughed softly. "Really? I'm scared we _are_ gonna find him. I don't fancy his chances if the Wendigo's had him since we were in Jericho."

John shivered. This wasn't going according to plan. He'd woken his brother to gain some small measure of comfort, but Virgil wasn't playing ball. That wasn't right. Scott was for protection, but Virgil specialised in comfort.

"You haven't sensed him here, have you?" Virgil asked quietly.

"No," John replied. "No, I haven't."

"That's good," Virgil told him, sounding relieved. "I don't think I'd have handled finding him … like that."

John decided against telling his brother that maybe he couldn't sense him because their father was dead.

"Still, I've no idea where we go from here," Virgil continued. "Maybe we could hire someone to track him down?"

"He'd hate that," John laughed. It felt good, a break in the tension and he realised just what Virgil was doing. "He'd be pissed we hadn't done it ourselves."

Virgil nodded, his own voice soft with laughter. "Can you imagine the speech we'd get?"

"It's not so much that I'm angry, boys," John began in an imitation of that deep, measured voice. "But I am disappointed."

"Stop," Virgil groaned. "The disappointment speech always leaves Scott in a foul mood."

"Does it ever," John agreed. They fell silent once more, and again John felt compelled to break it. "You know, when I was a kid all I wanted to do was help Dad on a hunt. Used to stay up pouring over books, desperate to get that bit of info he needed."

"I remember," Virgil smiled fondly.

"And Scott was his star pupil," John continued. "Was more into the physical side of it than me and just itching to salt and burn everything. Gordon was too young to hunt, although he was just as keen. But you, Virge?"

Virgil's voice held none of its previous warmth, and he spoke low and careful. "What about me?"

"You were good. I remember that, you were. But you were never into it. And you're still good, Virgil, really good. I saw you with that shot gun on Raquel and you're stepping right back into old habits. But you don't like it, do you?"

Virgil's sigh was weary. "I don't want this for us, Johnny. I especially don't like what it's doing to Alan. And although I enjoy spending time with you all, and it feels good to be a family again, I just can't understand why Dad's doing this."

"He must be onto something," Scott told him, crawling into the tent and making the other two jump. "You said yourself this is bigger than us, Virge."

"Yeah," Virgil replied quietly.

"Maybe he wants us to pick up where he left off?" John suggested, watching Scott nod.

"If this thing he's after is so huge, it'd make sense for him to want us to train up a bit before bringing us in," he agreed. He glanced at the very quiet Virgil. "You're staying with us, aren't you?"

Scott's voice was unusually unsure and Virgil shut his eyes to hear it. "I'm not a hunter, I never planned to be," he replied, "but I'm not going to walk away from my family. I'm in until we find Dad."

With that, Scott had to be content.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks, as ever, to all those who read and to those who reviewed. I love reading your comments! Keep 'em coming! To those Gordon fans out there, don't worry, he's finally woken up.  
**

**Standard disclaimers apply, as, sadly, I don't own the plots or characters and make no money from this.

* * *

**

When Alan had been five, Gordon had lost him.

The heart-stopping terror had only lasted a mere two minutes, although it had seemed much longer to the twelve year old as he raced up and down the aisles of the toy department searching for a glimpse of gold hair. He'd finally found Alan sat on the floor merrily telling another little boy which of the toys they were currently assessing he wanted for his birthday. Gordon had been so relieved he'd actually skidded on his knees to hug the indignant child and although time had dulled the memory, he'd never forgotten that fear.

It was doubled now, so bad Gordon was having trouble drawing breath. He stood alone in the room which should have contained his little brother and for the first few seconds after his discovery, couldn't think what he was going to do. Then brain activity returned and he grabbed his jacket, fleeing the warmth to search outside.

"Please, please, please," he whispered, running to the middle of the road to stare in both directions. "C'mon Alan, where are you?"

Movement caught his attention from the top of the town and Gordon sprinted towards it, his mind running faster than his feet. What if Alan had had another vision? What if he'd woken, not known where he was and run off? The scene from the day before flashed into the red head's mind; John cradling a terrified Alan, two cars abandoned and skid marks burnt into the road.

"What is it?" he called breathlessly, reaching them.

"Search party," someone answered distractedly and Gordon realised it was Lee, the owner of the diner. "Some kid didn't arrive where he was s'posed to and now the ranger's got a whole mountain to go over."

"Teams of six!" someone else shouted over the shuffling noise of the small crowd. "Remember who your team leader is, and call them the moment you think you might have found something. Leaders, your job is to radio me immediately. Under no circumstances do you do anything without my go ahead."

Gordon recognised others in the crowd, Mark and Gil, who'd first suspected a man eater in the area, as they began to move in after the ranger.

"Why the mountain?" he asked Lee, an inkling of an idea forming with icy dread.

"His sister's up there, searching for their other brother. Reckon he's gone to try and find them," Lee replied. Suddenly he tilted his head. "You're with the crowd that came into town the other day, ain'tcha? Say, how's your boy?"

"Fine," Gordon replied absently. "I gotta get back to him."

"Sure thing. Take my advice and keep him inside tonight. There's an ill wind blowing and I …" Lee shook his head sheepishly. "I just got a bad feeling."

Gordon nodded, backing away. Lee wasn't the only one. He headed straight back to his room, shutting the door. Worry battled with anger, fought with frustration. If Alan had followed Gary up into the mountains, Gordon was going to hug him to pieces and rip him a new one. He couldn't decide which one sounded the most appealing just then.

"Little brat," he muttered to himself. "When Scott kills me, I'm taking Alan down too."

Taking a slow breath, Gordon forced himself to calm down. He centred his thoughts and disappeared from the room. The mountain replaced it, and he expectedly glanced around for the familiar figure.

"Alan!" he called, stepping forwards to look further. "Where are you?"

Silence answered and Gordon felt goose bumps rise on his skin beneath his warm clothing.

"This isn't the time for games!" he shouted. "Get your butt over here!"

Again there was no sound, no movement. Belatedly, Gordon also noticed there was no light. Alan might have rushed off with Gary with no thought, but the other boy had obviously had this planned and no doubt he'd thought of bringing a flashlight. They weren't here.

Gordon's terror was rising. He bit down on it, hard, trying to find the signal that was Alan. As it had done before, it blipped on his subconscious, but this time Gordon didn't follow it. The signal came again, from a different location and Gordon's eyes snapped open in horror. He couldn't get a lock on Alan.

It was pure speculation, but Gordon had a sneaking suspicion that the boy's illness was preventing him from locating him. Whatever the reason, Gordon would have to follow each one of those signals until he found the kid.

"Terriffic," he sighed, before gathering himself. With a deep breath, Gordon prepared to hunt for his little brother.

* * *

Alan and Gary hadn't made it to the midway point, as far as they could tell. Despite their resolution to keep going through the night, the woods had taken on a much more threatening air since nightfall and the two boys had quietly agreed setting up camp would be the best thing to do. Gary may not have grown up on the mountains', but he'd lived in a mountain town and the stories the men told were beginning to steal his courage.

For his part, Alan was more than happy to stop and rest. Although he was trying hard not to let it show, his cough was plaguing him more and more frequently and a distinct wheeze could be heard when the boys fell silent. A deep chill had replaced the intense heat which had drenched Alan's body in sweat, and he'd gratefully slipped into his sleeping bag while Gary built a fire.

The other boy's determination was fading and with it, Alan's. He'd had to sever the emphatic link he'd established, the weight of Gary's downturn almost crushing him and he knew he was to blame for it. Gary kept shooting him glances and Alan didn't need to be psychic to know what they meant. He was seriously doubting the wisdom of letting Alan tag along.

Alan was doubting it too. But Gary's conviction had been so strong and he'd felt so stifled, just doing something had been uplifting, a glorious high that helped bring him above his illness. Now, bereft of that support, Alan was beginning to wish he'd woken Gordon.

Gordon could talk to people. Mostly he talked them into things and talked them out of trouble once they'd been caught doing those things, but nevertheless, Alan was sure he'd have been able to stop Gary's headlong rush. He was beginning to realise he hadn't actually thought it through properly. He was already ill and had suffered a fever induced vision that had left him afraid to close his eyes, did he really expect it to all go away just because he'd wanted to explore and be a part of his brother's hunt?

Gary glanced at him again and Alan felt like crying. Tentatively, he re-established the emphatic link with Gary, hoping the older boy was at least feeling confident he knew what he was doing. Instead, Alan found worry. It felt strange on the teen, as if the emotion didn't fit and Alan understood that. Gary was the baby of his family, he was used to being the one others worried about, but here he was in the middle of nowhere with a sick kid on his hands. He was trying to push his own feelings aside to concentrate on doing something to help Alan.

Alan broke the link, drained as always by dealing with someone else's emotions. They were trickier than he'd ever imagined, he was beginning to realise. It wasn't a case of someone feeling happy or sad, in love or angry. There were much more intricate and complex things going on, and Alan found it hard to untangle them all.

Gary joined his side, tugging his beanie onto Alan's head wordlessly. The two sat in silence, watching the small flames flicker on the twigs Gary had gathered.

* * *

Scott woke to John shaking his shoulder.

"Roy thinks he heard something," the blond announced. "I tried to tell him not to leave, but he's getting his gun."

"Shit," Scott groaned, sitting up quickly. John crawled out of the tent and Scott followed him, leaving Virgil, who remained deep in sleep.

"I couldn't sleep," John told him, tapping his head. "I kept getting Roy shouting in my ear."

"What about?" Scott asked, waiting for the guide to emerge from his tent again.

"It's a bear, it's a bear, it's gotta be a bear," John monotoned, rolling his eyes. "Couldn't ignore him, it was driving me nuts."

Scott studied his pale brother, noticing the dark smudges under his eyes. "Woke you up, huh?" he guessed.

"What with Hayley tormenting herself last night, I'm beginning to think we should stick close to civilisation in future," John sighed. "I thought I'd get a bit more peace out here, but it's worse than ever. Everyone's so loud."

Scott clapped him on the shoulder. "When this is over, we'll see about some down time, okay? Just us, somewhere quiet."

Without waiting for a reply, Scott moved away when he saw Roy appear. The guide was checking his gun, looking up as Scott approached.

"I think I heard it," he told the younger man.

Scott cut him off. "Don't go after it."

"What?"

"We think we know what it is, and I'm telling you, that gun is no protection."

"I don't have time for this," Roy growled, pushing past Scott.

"I'm serious," Scott insisted, gripping his arm. "It's a near perfect hunter, you're not gonna get close to it unless it's ready for you. You're not the one hunting it, it's hunting you."

Roy turned slowly, deliberately. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to do here, boy," he ground out. "But I advise you to let me do my job."

Roy threw Scott's hand off him with a violent shrug of his shoulder and Scott reached for him again angrily.

"You need to listen to me," he snapped. "It's not anything you've ever hunted and it will kill you."

"If it wanted us dead, it would have gotten into camp," Roy replied, speaking with deep contempt.

"There's a boundary around us it can't cross," Scott told him, knowing he wasn't going to win this way. Even to his own ears, it sounded ridiculous.

Roy didn't deign to reply, turning his back on Scott again and hurrying out of camp. They had attracted the attention of Virgil and Hayley by now, both of whom had joined John. Scott let a growl of annoyance escape him as he hurried after the guide.

Virgil caught John's eye. "Stay here," he instructed.

"Where are you going?" Hayley demanded, clearly frightened at the thought of the three men leaving the camp.

"He's not going out there without me," Virgil replied, ducking back into their tent for his own gun. Hayley gasped, she hadn't realised they had come armed also.

"It's all right," John soothed as his next oldest brother left. "Scott and Virgil are good at this."

Hayley would probably have believed him, had a strange, animalistic sound not echoed through the trees just then. Even John glanced around worriedly.

"It can't come past the boundary," he said softly.

"Boundary?" Hayley repeated, a little wild eyed. "What are you talking about?"

"We're safe as long as we stay within the circle," John told her, but the sound came again, a growling promise of violence. Hayley jumped, giving a little gasp of fright and suddenly she was off, sprinting in the direction the other's had taken.

"Hayley!" John called, running after her. "Wait!"

* * *

He'd been searching all night.

Gordon had seen the mountain from every angle except under and he still hadn't caught a glimpse of his little brother. He hadn't even run into his older siblings, much to his surprise. Not that he'd been trying to; Gordon had a healthy sense of self preservation and bumping into Scott, Virgil or John in the middle of the night and having to explain what he was doing wasn't what the red head considered constructive to longevity.

He didn't much fancy Alan's chances when he caught up to him, either, although he knew he would only hug the little fool to death at this stage. Or collapse. He was so frazzled now, Gordon's stomach had been reduced to a bubbling pit of acid and he'd stopped switching from anger to panic in favour of remaining in a state of high anxiety. He'd tried to snatch something to eat, but it'd burnt a hole in his belly and he'd ended up throwing it back up again, so near starvation his body couldn't accept the rich snack. It was close to being a real problem, but Gordon shoved his own needs aside nevertheless.

There was a creature loose on the mountain and it liked to eat people.

The thought that his kid brother could easily have become its prey was enough to cause Gordon to gather his flagging energy and try again. He appeared just as someone turned off their flashlight in the faint dawn light and he hastily hid himself. He'd almost landed on top of the various search groups several times during the night, each time the sweep of their lights had sparked hope within him, only for Gordon to discover his hatred of disappointment. Scott might have turned it into a lesson of the never-give-up variety, their father's work-hard-to-be-rewarded speech tucked away in there, but Gordon could find nothing encouraging at the continued misses.

His arrival had caught the attention of the flashlight owner, Gordon noticed, as the woman came towards his hiding place and wearily, Gordon found the next random signal to follow. He hoped this one would prove to be his brother.

* * *

Gary had been thinking hard, staring at the tiny, and incredibly useless, map he'd swiped the day before. He had re-plotted their course to the best of his ability and discovered they were well off the mark, far too east. Orienteering had never been his strongest point, but he was surprised how easy it was for him to have lost them.

They'd waste time this morning having to cover ground they'd crossed already and if anyone had decided to look for him – Gary was under no illusions, Aunt Pam might have been old, but she was by no means senile and had a worry frown deeper than Hayley's - they were heading in the wrong direction. Tommy's camp was west and they were most defiantly not.

He glanced across at Alan, sleeping fitfully beside him, tucked up in his sleeping bag so tightly his knuckles must have been white as he held onto it. He'd offered Gary his hat back when the fire died, but in an act of consideration Hayley would have been proud of, Gary had told him to keep it. He knew it was important to keep the kid warm, which was why he'd also given him the scarf he'd been planning to wrap around his own neck to ward off the night's chill.

Despite the age gap, huge in Gary's eyes, the teen liked Alan. The kid had that fierce independent streak Gary admired and even though he'd worsened during the afternoon, Alan had used that trait to keep going. But last night he had sat passively as Gary twined the wool around his throat and tucked the ends across his chest, under his coat, more than happy to let Gary take charge. He was miserable and cold and just wanted to be a kid now. Gary could totally identify with that. It was scary being responsible for someone else and he'd never done it before. Gary was constantly asking himself what Hayley would do if he was ill.

Dawn had broken an hour or so ago, but Gary didn't wake Alan. As anxious as he was to get going, Alan looked like he needed to sleep a while longer. Gary hoped his sister had had a better night and refused to think how Tommy might have spent his.

* * *

John was a strong runner, a shining member of his university track team, but Hayley, as she had proved the day before, was no slouch and her fear gave her wings, aiding her flight. It was some time before John caught her up. He roughly gripped her arm, prepared to drag her back to camp if he had to, and she struggled against him.

Their movements came to an abrupt end when they heard the foliage move behind them. Hayley let out an involuntary yelp as figures emerged, but John only felt relief as his brothers joined them, whole and healthy.

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Scott demanded angrily, turning the group back in the direction of their tents.

"It came to the camp," Hayley told him, breathless with fright. Scott shot the middle Tracy child a sharp glance, who shook his head in denial.

"It was outside the line," John insisted.

"Where's Roy?" Hayley's voice trembled and Scott looked frustrated again.

"I lost him," he grunted.

Hayley looked even more worried, her hand shook as she wiped a droplet of rain off her cheek. She froze when the three boys paled, following their gazes to her fingertips. Red shone wet on her skin and looking up impulsively, Hayley screamed.

Roy hung upside down, his legs bent brokenly over a branch. One arm stretched towards the earth in supplication, his eyes open yet sightless. Hayley screamed again when his body slipped from its perch, falling towards her. She scrambled out of the way and into Scott's arms, her hands to her mouth and no more words left.

"Back to the camp," Scott ordered, giving John a shove in the right direction for emphasis. "Move, don't look back, don't wait for anyone, just get into the circle."

His brother's did as they were told, Virgil becoming the point man, vigilantly searching for signs of attack. Scott kept behind Hayley as rear guard, trying not to imagine the feel of the Wendigo's claws ripping into his back.

Hayley's legs weren't obeying her, she stumbled frequently in terror, finally dropping to the forest floor with a cry. Scott bent to hook a hand under her arm, dragging her to her feet again and urging her onwards. Virgil and John turned, alarmed at Hayley's cry and Scott hastily waved them onwards.

"Keep going!" he shouted and just as they moved off again, Scott's world faded to grey, pain exploding against the back of his head. Hayley dropped to the floor beside him without a sound and Scott tried to reach her through the daze. Then black enveloped the muted colours of his vision and his knees gave out. The last thing he saw as his body crumpled to the ground was Virgil turning back for him.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks, as always, to those still reading this strangeness! And thanks also to those who've reviewed. Much appreciated, my friends.**

**

* * *

**

It would replay in Virgil's mind for hours afterwards. Closing his eyes, he would see Scott fall, revealing the Wendigo behind him, sharp teeth bared and eyes boring into his own.

The Wendigo's skin was dull grey, mottled in places, the perfect camouflage in dusk and dawn light, near invisible at night. It was taller than John, appearing starved to the bone, sharp joints stretching its skin taut. There the human characteristics ended. Long fingers tapered into points, claws like talons. It moved with feline grace and power, snarling like a wild dog, pausing to scent the air.

All Virgil saw was danger.

He darted back towards his fallen brother, shouting at John to keep moving. He saw the Wendigo lift Scott with one terrible hand, Hayley already upon its shoulder. Ignoring the way his older brother hung with rag doll indifference within the creature's grasp and summoning his ability, Virgil shouted a challenge.

The Wendigo turned to meet Virgil's headlong rush, throwing Scott and Hayley to the ground as it launched itself forwards. Virgil had known to expect speed, but it still took him by surprise. Barely managing to get a mental barrier between the two of them in time, Virgil braced himself for impact. The creature slammed into him, raking the energy force Virgil had built as it did so. He was unable to match the speed with which the creature moved; as the Wendigo slashed across his body, two claws ripped into the unprotected muscle of Virgil's right thigh.

Virgil fell to the ground heavily, extending and holding the field despite the agony burning from his injured leg and the trickle of blood he felt running from his nose. The impact of the Wendigo upon his shield had felt like a sledgehammer and it continued to rain blows down on him as it attempted to rip him apart. Virgil cried out, teeth clenched, against the onslaught.

Independent thought, and a fair amount of stubbornness, were Tracy tendencies, inherited from both parents. Even John, third born and considered the most logical of the five, hadn't escaped the trait. As soon as he'd seen Virgil rush the creature, he'd ignored the order to run and put his considerable mind to work. Now, knowing his brother could only hold out moments before his shield faltered, he made his decision.

Wendigo's had once been human. John was relying on something of that humanity remaining. He extended his thoughts to take in those of the creatures and as his subconscious brushed against its mind, the Wendigo straightened from Virgil. John breathed out, frightened but determined.

"Come on," he called. "Come and talk to me."

The Wendigo stepped over Virgil, who rolled over weakly to follow it, reaching out one hand as the other clamped down on his bloodied thigh.

"Johnny," he whispered. "Don't."

John ignored his brother, focusing on the creature. He gathered his thoughts and attempted to place an instruction within the creature's mind. It wasn't normally how his abilities worked, but necessity being the mother of invention, he was willing to take a risk. John was hoping he might be able to use its humanity to get through to it and use its animal part against it. If he could control something with less human traits, he'd take it. He focused on the Wendigo's mind again and pushed.

The mind he entered was without thought. Instincts were strong; hunger, anger and fear predominant, but there was nothing left of the thing's human beginnings and with a sense of panic, John tried to back away, horrified to discover the way he'd travelled was suddenly blocked. His own mind was becoming flooded with the Wendigo's slavering impulses and terrified, John found himself ensnared.

Virgil watched as his younger brother's eyes rolled back inside his head and he became the final member of their party to fall to the ground.

"John!"

Virgil dragged himself towards him as best he could, his energy field breaking around him. He didn't get very far. The Wendigo scooped the blond onto its shoulder, repositioning him to add Scott and Hayley before turning back to the other man. Virgil held its gaze as it moved towards him. Long, cruel claws hooked into his jacket with a strange delicacy and he was lifted into the air. The pain of his injury finally becoming too much, Virgil lost consciousness.

* * *

It was with a sense of trepidation that Alan and Gary made their way to Tommy's campsite. It had been a long morning, broken only by the sound of Alan's cough. Gary simply didn't know what to say anymore and Alan was too wrapped in his own world of misery to care.

He hoped they'd find Scott and the other's there. They could be as angry with him as they wanted, Alan'd take it over this loneliness any day. If they weren't at Tommy's camp, he had no idea where they might have moved on to and Alan was seriously considering asking Gary that they go back to town. The twelve year old had had enough. He was aching with the cold now, walking with his arms wrapped tightly about himself, head bowed and driving himself nearly mad with worry.

He'd left Gordon yesterday afternoon. Even allowing for the amount of time Gordon liked to sleep and his tiredness, the red haired Tracy would have discovered his absence by now. He'd be angry, but at least this would be over. Only, it wasn't.

With a single thought, Gordon could be at his side. So why wasn't he? Had Alan made him so mad he'd decided to leave him to fend for himself? It didn't sound like Gordon, but their past was littered with periods where Gordon would hide from everyone in the house to cool down. Was now a more extreme version of that?

Or had something happened to his brother? Was he somehow unable to rush to Alan, injured or sick or captured or … Alan's thoughts chased each other through his mind again and again until with an angry shake of his head, he indulged in his favourite scenario so far. Maybe Scott, Virgil and John had found Dad? They'd taken him back to town last night and everyone was so glad, they'd forgotten about him. They were just about to come get him, actually.

"Oh, shit."

Gary's whispered expletive abruptly ended the fantasy and Alan bumped into the older boy, having not seen him stop. Peering around Gary's shoulder, Alan's jaw dropped. With a cry of alarm, Gary headed into the small clearing, unknowingly imitating his sister's actions the evening before. Alan followed at a slower pace, huge eyes taking in the awful carnage until he could look no more. Averting his gaze, he spotted a broken games console lying abandoned on the ground and impulsively, he bent to pick it up.

His vision dimmed as he was plunged into the past, the scene travelling before his eyes so fast it was hard to make out individual details. It took Alan a moment to realise he was seeing the attack on Tommy's camp. His breath stuttered in his chest as a man about John's age was snatched into the night, his only legacy a ringing scream and the scattering of red stains.

* * *

Gordon was in a bad way. He was on his way to starvation with his metabolism burning too much fat too fast and his body rejecting food, and that was leading to hypoglycaemia. His skin was clammy, his head pounded and he was trembling. The woman at the store must have thought he was coming down from something, especially as he only brought orange juice and sugar. The red head was long past caring what anyone else thought.

Gordon's hands shook as he lifted the bottle of juice, heapings of sugar added. He hoped he could keep it down, the memory of the disastrous chocolate surfacing in his mind. He was now well past the stage a candy bar would help, and he knew Virgil was going to give him a lecture on looking after himself properly if he ever found out.

He grimaced at the taste of the sweetened juice and held himself still as he waited to see if his stomach would hold the mouthful of liquid. Experience had taught him not rush it and not to force down too much unless he wanted to see it again ten minutes later. It tasted bad going down, but that was nothing compared to it coming back up. He gingerly took another sip and made more of the concoction, pouring sugar from the bag directly into the second juice bottle, shaking it swiftly.

Gordon hadn't forgotten the reason he had put himself into his current state. He'd been unable to find Alan, and when Gordon had finally admitted defeat and sought to bring his brothers in on the search, he'd found he'd drained himself to the point he wasn't able to locate them either. He'd come back to town, taken stock and now he crouched in an alley, looking for all the world like an addict on a bad trip and hoping he was going to be able to go on long enough to return to the mountain and get to a close enough distance to find his brothers. Any of them right now would be welcome, even if Scott did threaten to string him up from his intestines.

Gordon swallowed another mouthful, assessing his condition. Hunger and anxiety were common symptoms of hypoglycaemia and he was feeling both of those, although each of them could very easily be attributed to the fact his little brother was missing on a mountain with a monster on the loose and he had spent the entire night jumping from spot to spot looking for him. Anyone would be hungry, not to mention panicky with worry. His skin was still clammy, but he wasn't sweating as much as he previously had been, his headache was easing slightly also. The juice was working, apparently. And staying put in his stomach, much to his relief.

He wasn't having difficulty in thinking, concentrating and nor was he confused. He wasn't in what he liked to call the 'bad' stage of hypoglycaemia yet, although Virgil would point out any stage of it should be considered bad and avoided at all costs. Certainly, none of it was fun. And after those symptoms, Gordon could expect seizures and a coma and although he'd never come close to either of those, he raised the juice bottle again with new determination.

He stood, noticing the tremble but choosing to ignore it. Alan wasn't being found on his own and Gordon had a job to do. Would Batman give up? Never. A bottle of juice in each hand, Gordon travelled to the mountain. He landed with a wobble, tripping over and into a bush. Holding his head in his hands, Gordon sighed. He was willing to lay odds that Batman never had a day like this.

* * *

Alan shut his eyes, but the images continued to play out. Another boy, torn and bleeding, wept brokenly by his side. Instinctively, Alan knew neither of these were Gary's brother and he anxiously glanced around for Tommy. He was lying unconscious in the centre of the camp amid the wreckage of their tents, a gash on his forehead bleeding slowly and his fingers still curled around the cracked games console Alan now held. As he watched, something from the dark lifted Tommy and turned to the third boy. He couldn't make out much of the creature, apart from its height and the stench of decay that emanated from it, but the injured man at his feet whimpered, begging. He too was lifted, screaming now, and as the creature left, it passed through Alan as if he didn't exist.

The strange non-contact evoked a new scene, daylight now, although fading fast, the violence of the night undiminished by the sun. For several seconds Alan thought he was back where he belonged, until he saw Hayley kneeling not far from where Gary sat, dazed. Spinning around, Alan let out a cry of joy as his oldest brother entered the camp, wordlessly supporting Hayley.

Scott, so often the foundation on which they rested their worries, allowed the girl to hide her face in his shoulder. Alan could understand her reaction. Scott made him feel safe too. He was the wall that sheltered them from their troubles and protected them against any threat. Alan wanted to run to him now, to be swept up in that loving embrace and hidden from the dark and the thing that hunted through it.

His elation rose when he saw John. Patient and understanding, seeking enlightenment and holding his own light so high, Alan could join him in its glow, John was Alan's mentor. Since Alan had been small, John had shared his love of space with him gladly, teaching him without reservation and with endless joy. And from John, Alan had learnt more than what space contained, his quiet brother was a never-ending source of information and life lessons.

While Gary remained oblivious and a man Alan didn't recognise went through the debris and the remnants of the tents, Alan watched his brothers, absorbing the sight of them, glad simply to know they had stood where he was now. But one was missing and Alan sought out Virgil, worry biting sharply when he couldn't find him.

Scott had left Hayley by now, speaking to John and thankfully, Virgil emerged from the trees. Alan, as he had done with the others, studied his second oldest brother.

While not as tall as the others, Virgil was broader, more muscled in the shoulders. Most people didn't expect Virgil's gentleness, his physique a first impression but his calm dependability a lasting one. Alan couldn't count how many times he'd cried within the mighty embrace as a child, Virgil letting him work through his pain even as he set about fixing it. Friends had told Alan, awed and fascinated, that Virgil could cause serious damage, uncomprehending when Alan replied that Virgil would never want to.

Alan gazed at his three oldest brothers happily, the familiarity of their movements and habits a deep comfort. He found himself smiling and Scott seemed to look at Alan then. The boy held his breath, wondering if his brother could see him, but he turned to the strange man, crouching down to talk to him. After a moment, the group left. Scott was the last, turning and looking in Alan's direction one final time.

Alan blinked awake, moving to Gary even before he was fully conscious of his decision and almost falling in his haste.

"Come on," he urged, tugging on the boy's sleeve. "We have to go."

Gary gazed back, vacant and grief stricken. He didn't listen as Alan urged him up once more.

"No one could have survived this," he murmured, dropping his eyes from Alan's and staring at the wreckage, devastated. "Tommy's dead."

Alan shook his head impatiently. Seeing his brothers had rejuvenated his flagging spirits again and he was eager to follow the direction Scott had taken.

"He's not dead," he insisted quickly. "I saw him, he's alive."

Gary frowned. "What? Where did you see him?"

"Here. On the night of the attack."

"How could you have been here?" Gary demanded, rising to his feet. "This isn't funny kid, my brother's dead!"

"I had a premonition," Alan snapped, forgetting that Gary wouldn't understand what he was talking about. He coughed harshly, phlegm breaking in his chest, but forced himself on. "I saw the attack and I saw the thing take Tommy. Then I saw my brothers find this place and I saw which way they left."

"You're crazy," Gary told him, face flushing red with anger. "Delusional."

Alan frowned, almost as angry. "No I'm not," he insisted, shivering.

"Prove it," Gary taunted.

Alan paused for a moment, trying to remember the details of what he'd seen. "Tommy was wearing a green jacket," he began. "It's really old, one of the pocket's half torn off."

Gary paled. "He was really alive?" he asked quietly. "Really?"

"Yeah," Alan nodded. "And Hayley was with my brothers. She was sad, but Scott made her feel better."

"How do you know that?" Gary breathed.

"I saw it," Alan replied simply. He gazed in the direction he had seen his family take, tugging his jacket tighter about him. "Can we go now?"

Gary gazed at the campsite, nodding absently and following Alan back into the woods. After about a minute, Alan remembered the creature who'd caused so much damage, who had Tommy and was still roaming the woods. Suddenly every shadow harboured a demon, every leaf rustle became a threat and Alan inched closer to Gary. The older teen seemed to feel just as spooked and broke the silence in a loud voice.

"You have premonitions?"

"Yeah," Alan nodded. "Out of nowhere."

"Kid, that's not normal."

"Tell me about it," Alan agreed darkly.

* * *

Virgil came to with a bump, literally, as he was deposited roughly on the ground. Not knowing where he was, he twisted to look about him, crying out as pain flared through his leg, bringing memory with it.

"John! Scotty!"

Moving more carefully this time, Virgil continued to gaze about him, his hand covering the worst of his wound and keeping pressure on the small amount of bleeding. He'd been out some time, then. It was dark, wherever he was, and cold. Movement caught his eye, hanging bodies he discovered to his horror. The Wendigo was moving between them, fastening his recent takes. Virgil forgot about his leg again when he saw the creature lift Scott's bound wrists and slide them over a hook hanging from a beam in the roof.

"No!" Virgil cried weakly, drained of energy. "Don't."

The Wendigo ignored him, stringing Hayley up beside his brother. Both remained unconscious, and Virgil dreaded to think of the concussions they might be nursing. He watched as the monster moved to the side, bending down to lift John from the ground. Giving the blond a little shake, it soon lost interest, dropping him back. Virgil winced as he saw his brother's skull bounce against the ground. Finally, the Wendigo turned its attention to Virgil.

The twenty-five year old held his breath, eyes nervously scanning its face. It held rope in what were once its hands, reaching down to prise Virgil's' hand from his thigh and roughly tying his wrists together, ignoring his struggles. It stood, going back to its hanging victims. Virgil couldn't see a spare hook, and taking a risk, he began to move towards John, intent on checking his condition. Minds weren't his expertise, but he needed to do something for his brother. The creature tugged him back harshly, his injured thigh scraping along the ground.

Virgil gritted his teeth in agony, a fresh flow of blood running warm on his skin, and the Wendigo secured his bound hands to a support beam. Without another thought for its captives, the monster left and Virgil struggled against his bindings, calling his brother's names hoarsely.

His voice returned, echoing mockingly.


	9. Chapter 9

**I know it's been ever so slightly longer between chapters with this one, but there was a lot to get right. Hopefully, I've managed it.**

**Thanks, as ever, to all those reading this and to those reviewing. If I don't get a chance before next Thursday, I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas or Hanukka. **

**I don't own any characters and my plots are based off the first season of Supernatural, the second episode, Wendigo.  
**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

John came to with a weary moan. He opened his eyes to darkness, picking out huddled shapes, blacker than the midnight that surrounded him. He sat up slowly, tensing for the expected pain that would throb through his head. It felt like his skull would shatter from the pressure, usually, except …

Nothing. John frowned, trying to get his bearings even as he attempted to work through the strange numbness he felt. Overuse of powers was a serious felony, the crime punishable by his brain screaming. Why wasn't it?

"Dude, be cooler."

John jumped, glancing up. One of the huddles was sitting up also, staring at him. John grinned in relief.

"Virge! Are you all right?"

"I'm not the one talking to myself," Virgil answered cryptically.

"But your leg?"

Virgil dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand. "You know how to get out?"

"No," John admitted. "I haven't had time to assess our situation."

Virgil fixed him with a look. "We need to get out of here. The others are counting on you."

John blinked. Maybe his head was little worse than he thought. He couldn't follow Virgil's jumping conversation. "Me?"

"It's what they do, right? Get in a bind and expect you to come up with a solution. We need a solution to this mess, Johnny."

Virgil was channelling Scott now, gone was the light hearted banter, replaced by the need to get them out. John felt like the weight of the world rested on one of his shoulders, his brother's safety on the other. Amounted to the same thing, in the end. He thought, hard. "Are you restrained?"

Virgil shook his head.

"Me either," John mused. "I thought we'd be restrained."

Before he could act on the absence of bindings, his wrists shot forwards and together, against his will. "What the hell!"

Heavy rope wound around the joints, his ankles following suit. "Virgil!"

"Nice going, brainiac," a voice bit. "You couldn't have pictured us not trussed up like a kinky vid?"

John blinked. "Gordy?" he asked, stupidly.

Virgil shook his head. "Still me. Infused with Scott level determination and Gordon style sayings. I'm a lot of fun, aren't I?"

John swallowed. "Did you hit your head?"

Virgil didn't reply with more than a smirk.

"Did _I _hit my head?" John whispered, seeing clearly for the first time since he'd woken.

"Not exactly, although you're suffering some neurological damage," Virgil replied, taking pity on him. "You remember what you did? What I told you not to do?"

John shivered. Oh, yeah. That.

"Screwed with your processing abilities and your brain's taking a time out," Virgil continued. "It didn't much like sharing space with the Wendigo and threw a bit of a tantrum."

So I'm actually unconscious? John didn't voice it, but he swore he saw Virgil nod. Okay. He could deal with that. Strange that his subconscious had dredged up poor old Virgil to share this with, but at least he wasn't alone.

"I was the last person you saw," Virgil told him and John frowned. If he was going to insist on reading his thoughts, John's mind might decide to throw another strop. It got rid of the Wendigo, after all. And returned John, which was a relief to say the least.

"I'm back, though."

John said it out loud. Saying things had, in his experience, always made them more real. He was sure it was one of the reasons Scott never referred to their mother's death. The most adjusted of the brothers, Scott was still in denial nevertheless. John pushed the thought away and took a deep breath, repeating himself. "I'm back."

"Passing out did it."

Virgil was gone now; replaced by John himself and the blond couldn't help but be disappointed. Was it worse to talk to yourself or someone who wasn't there?

"It severed the connection," he told himself, anyway. "Like a short circuit."

The other John nodded. "Your mind sought to protect you from further damage."

"All right, how do I wake up?"

John, or the image of him, laughed. "Can't help you there, Spock."

"My – our? – brothers were captured by the Wendigo too," John insisted. "I'm obviously not dead, so the chances are, they aren't either. I need to wake up."

Not-John shrugged. "Maybe you're still alive because one of them is not?

John hated the way his mind worked sometimes.

* * *

They found Scott's camp an hour or so after leaving Tommy's. Alan's heart lifted, his pace quickening as he hurried in, but Gary caught hold of him, pressing a finger to his own lips. Frowning, Alan peered into the camp, spotting what had caused Gary's caution. A figure was moving about, jerky and random, falling down frequently. Alan squinted, trying to make out features under the dense layer of branches. The man helped, moving into a shaft of sunlight and Alan shouted out with joy as it caught the red of his hair like a fire rimed halo.

"Gordy!"

Alan threw himself at his brother, undignified and uncaring. Gordon caught him, barely, but was unable to support his brother's headlong rush and the two of them toppled over. Alan didn't care; it gave him a chance to cuddle in closer, pressing his cold nose into the warmth of Gordon's neck.

"Sprout!" Gordon managed, although he tightened his hold on the boy. "Thank God!"

"I'm sorry!" Alan apologised, as the harsh cough took the last of his breath. Once recovered, he continued. "I'm really sorry Gordon. Please don't hate me!"

Gordon pulled back in surprise, and noticing the silent teen standing awkwardly nearby, returned his attention to Alan. He lowered his head until his lips were beside his brother's ear. "I don't hate you, kid," he promised. "Just promise me you'll never do that again."

Alan lifted his head, cuffing at his eyes. "I promise," he croaked and Gordon cupped his little brother's face. All previous anger he'd felt was stripped away by that hurting, miserable expression.

"We need to get you back to town," he murmured. Alan nodded his agreement, standing up and helping Gordon back to his feet. Once he turned, though, Alan's face fell.

"We have to find Tommy first," he remembered quietly.

"I'm assuming you're Tommy and Hayley's brother, right?" Gordon asked and Gary nodded hesitantly.

Gordon had moved away slightly, the teen's eyes following his moves even though he remained rooted to the spot. The red head eventually found the duffel his brother's had taken when they had set out and began to root through it.

"I'm sure Scott's got everything under control," Gordon reassured the younger boys absently, scattering clothes in his haste.

"I saw the camp," Alan explained. "Gary did too. Gordon, Scott and everyone was there."

Gordon lifted his eyes from the duffel to stare incredulously at his little brother. "You saw them?"

"Yeah," Alan confirmed, "but they weren't really there."

Gordon pinched the bridge of his nose; a Virgil and Dad move that made Alan suddenly miss them more than ever. "You're not making any sense, kiddo."

Alan knelt next to his brother. "They had been there earlier," he explained. "I could tell it was a different time of day."

Gordon sighed, and Alan noticed how tired he looked. "Like a vision?" Gordon tried.

Alan beamed, before hiding his cough behind his hand.

"Yeah," he agreed, trying to swallow. Gordon unthinkingly handed him the last of his juice and Alan choked as the sweetened orange hit the back of his throat. "Gross!"

"I know," Gordon sympathised, rubbing his back. Alan looked up at him, eyes wide.

"Are you sick?"

Ignoring the concern he heard, Gordon ducked back once more into the duffel. "Not for much longer," he said, holding up an epi-pen triumphantly. "Remind me to tell Scott to leave the Glucagon with me, next time he goes charging to the rescue."

Without another word, Gordon pressed the pen against his thigh, and Alan jumped as he heard the needle push through denim and enter flesh to deliver the medication into Gordon's muscle.

Alan pressed closer to his brother. "Gordy?"

Gordon smiled, reaching out to grip the back of Alan's neck. "I'm all right, Sprout," he confirmed. "But we're getting off the mountain the old fashioned way. Ready to go?"

The thought of abandoning the search moved Gary to speak for the first time. "What about Tommy?"

Alan glanced at Gordon. "I saw the thing that took him," he began and Gordon frowned, knowing all too well where this was leading. While he appreciated Alan's loyalty to his new friend, heading back wasn't up for debate.

"Not a chance," he said, perhaps harsher than he intended, for both boys flinched. "We're going back to town, where we were supposed to be. Where Scott will find us," he added, pressing as much emphasis as he could into the words.

With a wheezy sigh, Alan nodded.

* * *

Taking a circular route so they boys wouldn't have to see Tommy's ruined campsite again, Gordon wondered if Scott had had the same sort of problems with Gordon when he had been younger. Admittedly, he'd never run up a mountain with a virtual stranger while a flesh eating monster had been knocking about, but he knew he'd caused his fair share of worry. WASP had installed in him a sense of responsibility, but it'd never exactly frowned upon a headstrong desire to place yourself between your team and the danger. Maybe, in his own way, Alan had emulated him.

And if that wasn't a sobering thought, Gordon didn't know what was.

Speaking of Alan, the kid had paused, shock still, staring at something on the ground.

"Sprout?" Gordon called, wearily going back for him. "What is it?"

Alan, looking whiter than the proverbial sheet, simply sank onto the already stained knees of his jeans.

Gordon's heart jumped in fear. "Allie?"

Gary shot him a frightened look, extending it into a glance that scanned the trees nervously as Gordon reached his brother. Amongst the forest litter was a rusting metal cage. It took Gordon a moment to place the item. Why was Alan so freaked about an old lantern?

"It's his," Alan hissed. "Gordon, it's the lantern the ghost was holding."

"Ghost?"

Gary's question held more than a touch of terror and Gordon, torn between taking Alan away from anything that might connect him to the monster and rushing to shut Gary up, almost fell. He really needed to sleep, eat and forget this whole nightmare, not necessarily in that order.

Alan, meanwhile, reached out to touch the lantern.

_He wasn't in the dark place that had haunted his waking hours, in fact he was standing in the same place he was currently kneeling. Focusing on a glow to his right, Alan turned and wasn't entirely surprised to find the dead man who'd owned the lantern._

"_I never hurt anyone."_

_Alan wished he'd put the lantern out. The ghost was just as bloody, just as torn as he'd been the previous two times he'd appeared, his face just as shadowed and his eyes just as hard. Swallowing nervously, Alan summoned the courage to speak._

"_What do you want?"_

_The ghost turned away, seeming to watch the night-time woods and eventually, Alan followed his line of sight. For a moment there was nothing, then moving silently, swiftly, the creature that had taken Tommy._

_It came towards them and Alan took an involuntary step back, bumping into something solid. Remembering the last thing he'd knocked into, Alan spun in terror, only to find the dead man, whole and alive, standing behind him. Alan stumbled backwards, just as the monster reached them and Alan shut his eyes. He couldn't ignore the screaming, however, or the sound the lantern made as it dropped to the floor. Breathing hard, he opened his eyes again, finding the spirit once more watching the creature, as it carried his body away. _

_Alan stepped closer to the ghost. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I can't stop it. But my brothers will."_

_The spirit slowly turned his hard, empty eyes onto him, before looking back at the direction the creature had taken. When it became apparent he wasn't going to say anything, Alan turned also. The monster was retreating back to its lair again, carrying others. Horrified, Alan recognised his brothers._

When he next opened his eyes, Alan was lying flat on his back, Gordon's pinched, worried face peering down over him. "Don't. Ever. Do that. Again."

"Gordon?" Alan whimpered. "It's got them. It's got all of them."

* * *

There wasn't really any other choice, Gordon told himself. Alan had refused to give up the location of the thing's lair, insisting on leading them there himself and Gary had dug his own heels in, terrified to be left behind and desperate to see his family. Gordon hoped it wasn't going to be a mistake and he was going to find his brother and sister half eaten or something. He may not know what it was, but it certainly wasn't friendly.

Alan led them to what Gordon recognised immediately as an abandoned mine. Telling the boys to wait, he scanned the entrance. There was no tracks leading in or out, he saw and straightening with a weary groan, he was about to tell Alan he must have it wrong when he noticed a broken twig, right about eye level. The thing might not have left tracks, but its human victims could easily have done. Especially if, as Alan claimed, it had been heavily laden.

Gordon wasn't completely unarmed, but somehow, he didn't think the switchblade he carried was going to be much use as protection. He felt better about the gun he'd picked up from the tent, although he had been concerned Scott had left it behind. Still, with two boys in his care, he was wary about going into the mine. On the other hand, he didn't feel comfortable leaving them hidden somewhere without protection and he doubted his brother's were likely to have the time it took for him to take them down the mountain and come back.

Squaring his shoulders, Gordon came to a decision. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best he could do. Glancing behind him, he beckoned Alan and Gary forwards.

"All right, if we're going in, you're under my orders," he said seriously. "I mean it, no more arguing against my decisions, no more running off where you want, you stick to my commands. To. The. Letter."

He paused, staring hard.

"Understood?"

Gary nodded quickly and Alan offered up a little smile that Gordon didn't return. If he was going to be a commander, he couldn't come across as a brother. He suddenly realised the hard line Scott had to walk with them all. As much as Scott loved them, as much as he'd lay his life down for them, he had to make them understand there was only one leader.

The sunlight didn't penetrate far into the mine and Gordon paused to allow their eyes to adjust. To his right, he could see a darker patch along the rough side of the tunnel and indicating he wanted the boys to stay put, Gordon inched his way forwards. It turned out to be nothing more than a stock room, but Gordon searched through it anyway. Old, rusting mining tools had been stored here, and also weapons against Grizzly attacks. Nearly all of them had been used, it appeared, in fact, it looked as if a fire fight had taken place in the area.

He nearly shouted out when he saw the decomposed body lying behind some boxes, his heart hammering against his ribs rapidly. Taking a breath and closing his eyes, Gordon composed himself in order to continue searching. Nearby the remains, Gordon could see a strange, stubby hand gun. On closer inspection, he recognised it as a flare gun and to his relief, the chamber was loaded. The man had died before he could use it, but it appeared to be his last shot, Gordon could find no refills. Tucking the gun into his belt, he rejoined his brother and Gary, motioning them onwards again.

The mine was a rabbit warren, a mess of interconnecting tunnels but Gordon had cave dived plenty in his time and he knew how to plot his way back out, even without a guide rope. He always figured it was better to be safe than sorry, after all.

Eventually, however, he could have simply closed his eyes and relied on his nose to move through the mine, the smell of rotting flesh pungent in the still air. Behind him, he heard Alan's noisy breathing and Gary's choked expletive. He smiled, grimly. Oh boy, and they were still a distance away too.

Once they made it into the room the smell came from, even Gordon paused. Before him, stretched out like a butchers shop, were the monster's victims. Gordon wasted no more time trying to adjust his mind, his very soul was already stained just by being there, he was sure. He moved forwards, searching for familiar faces.

Only three were … untouched. He refused to assign a verb to it, because the only ones that he could come up with were torn, ripped and shredded and they all seemed too cold to describe the last state of what had been a living, breathing being. Focusing on the three, Gordon breathed out in relief.

Scott was the first one, the girl, Hayley he assumed next to him and just before them … a stranger. His suspicions were confirmed when Gary called his brother's name.

To his relief, none of the three were bleeding, from what he could tell, although all were unconscious. Gordon drew his switchblade, rousing Hayley as he cut her down. He left her to Gary, turning his attention to Tommy, patting his cheek and talking him round as he cut through the ropes. Despite her own ordeal, Hayley was more concerned with her brother than herself and rushed forwards to claim him. Gary joined them seconds later and Gordon turned from their emotional reunion, focused on bringing Scott around. The dark blue eyes opened as Gordon broke through the last of the rope. Scott fell from the hook, and Gordon tried to support him as best he could.

"Easy, big brother," he soothed as they sank to the floor. "I've got you."

"Gordy?" Scott's voice was low, hollow, but his eyes were sharp. "What's wrong with you?"

Gordon couldn't help but smile, despite the situation. Trust Scott to pick up he wasn't on top of his game. "I'm all right," he reassured him. "Just a little wobbly."

Scott didn't look as if he believed him, but something else took his worry. "Where's Alan?"

"I'm here," the boy called shakily from behind them where he knelt next to Virgil, having darted past Gordon at some point.

"You brought Alan?" Scott demanded, hand moving to the back of his head as he aggravated the pain beating a march on his skull.

Gordon grimaced. "Not exactly."

Scott glowered as much as his headache would allow, but Gordon didn't elaborate and now wasn't exactly the time to go into it, so he gripped the teen tightly in an embrace, simply glad to see him.

Alan, who'd been clinging to his brother in relief, turned his attention to the rope that secured Virgil. His fingers were numb, but he valiantly continued to try to untie Virgil until his hand slipped from the knot, landing on Virgil's thigh. Almost in a dream, Alan lifted his hand again, revealing the wound on his brother's leg, and his blood covered palm. Too reminiscent of his visions, Alan stared at Virgil in horror.

"It looks worse than it is."

Virgil's deep voice echoed softly, merging into the ghost's too easily and Alan suddenly felt sick, scrambling back, searching for Scott.

"Alan?"

The eldest Tracy son was trying to find his feet with Gordon's support, but caught the boy as he hurried towards him.

"Virgil's hurt!" he cried out, flinging his arms around his oldest brother, hiding his eyes from the death surrounding him and wishing they were anywhere but here.

Scott hugged the child close, eyes roving his dark haired brother's face, but Virgil, still bound, shook his head.

"I'm all right," he insisted as Alan coughed harshly. "We gotta go, Scotty."

Scott untangled Alan, although he kept an arm around the boy, and stood on his own. He doubted he would last long, and allowed his pint-sized brother to prop him up. The world, dark as it was, resembled a tilt-a-whirl at the moment.

"Where's John?" he asked.

"Over there," Virgil said, nodding in the direction. "He's not woken up, but he's not physically injured."

Scott moved Alan to John's side, while Gordon cut Virgil loose. As he pulled the ropes off Virgil, Gordon froze when he noticed the welling blood on his leg. Virgil caught his little brother's eye and held his gaze, silently telling him not to say anything. Gordon swallowed heavily, unable to break eye contact.

"Scott, you gotta get everyone out of here," Virgil called again, a warning glance ensuring Gordon kept his mouth shut.

Scott, distracted, didn't see. He placed his hand over John's. The blond looked as if he were sleeping. "You can wake him?" he asked softly, reluctant to leave him.

"Yes," Virgil affirmed, although he had yet to move.

"We'll wait," Scott told him, turning slightly to look at him. "I'm not keen on splitting up."

Virgil shook his head. "That thing is coming back, Scott. Get everyone moving; if I can't wake him, me and Gordy'll carry him."

"Virge," Scott began, but Hayley cut him off.

"Please, Scott," she begged. "Please, let's go. Tommy's in a bad way."

Scott paused, torn between his brother's and a stranger's fate. The decision should have been easy, but he'd been brought up to place other people before himself. Besides, the Tracy's could handle themselves better than Tommy could. But while the man had been hanging from a hook for the past few days, he wasn't injured. Weak, dehydrated and hungry, he was thankfully whole, unlike John, who remained unmoved by Alan's quiet begging to open his eyes. Scott toyed with the idea of remaining until a further plea from Hayley, combined with Alan's cough, decided him. He nodded, a knot of unease forming in his stomach.

"All right."

"I found a flare gun," Gordon announced quickly, yet to leave Virgil's side. "The ranger's got people all over the mountain, if you set it off, they'll find us."

He didn't add, and if we're slow getting out, we'll find you too, but the words echoed within the mine nevertheless.

Scott stood, wrapping his arm back around Alan. He glanced from John to Virgil and Gordon. His head pounded to the point of insanity. "Be quick," he ordered, taking the gun.

Virgil smiled gently. "You be careful too."

Hayley and Gary, supporting Tommy, led the group out quickly. Turning back to Virgil, Gordon opened his mouth, but his brother's fierce glare shut it again.

"Don't argue with me," the elder of the two said with quiet vehemence. "I need you to get everyone down this mountain and I need you to stop Scott from coming back up."

"What are you talking about?" Gordon frowned. He reached out to slip an arm around Virgil, thinking to help him to his feet, but to his surprise found a barrier between them. "Virgil?"

His brother shook his head, the barrier fading. "I realise it's not fair to ask this of you, but Scott would never agree."

Gordon shivered, disliking the ominous way Virgil was talking. "To what?"

Virgil glanced across at John, lying motionless where he fell. "I've no idea how to wake him," he admitted quietly.

Gordon, unsure what his brother was saying, studied him carefully. "Then we carry him," he declared.

Virgil's eyes were full of emotion as he turned back to the red head. "I can't walk, Gords."

It became clear what Virgil was suggesting and Gordon refused to linger on that idea.

"If we put John into a fireman's carry, I could support you," he reasoned, but Virgil was already shaking his head.

"You couldn't lift a butterfly right now, kid."

"I took a shot back at your camp," Gordon insisted, but Virgil's hand, slick with his own blood, covered his.

"Get them off the mountain, Gordon."

For a moment, Gordon could do nothing more than stare at their hands, his stark white against the black of Virgil's. Emotion welled and he made the mistake of looking into Virgil's eyes again, blinking back the sudden sting of tears.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything?" he demanded angrily. "Damnit Virgil, Scott would've helped you!"

"You know why I didn't let that happen," Virgil told him gently, unfazed by his brother's shouting and Gordon's anger fled, as always, before Virgil's calm.

"Virge," he whispered, swallowing again against the sudden lump in his throat.

"It's an amazing tracker," Virgil continued in that same soft tone. "And I'm bleeding. I won't get my brother's killed, and John wouldn't want to either. You'll go faster without us, kiddo."

Gordon shook his head, ignoring both the logic and the tear making its way down his cheek. "I'm not going to leave you."

Virgil smiled sadly. "Yes, you are."

"Virgil," Gordon pleaded desperately.

"Listen to me," Virgil insisted, but his brother gripped his arm.

"Virge, please."

"Listen to me, Gordy," Virgil repeated. "Tell Scott whatever you like, but you make sure he doesn't turn around."

Again, Gordon began to protest, but again Virgil cut him off.

"Distract him, he's woozy enough to fall for it. Use Alan if you have to. Whatever it takes."

Gordon's voice broke. "I can't."

"You can," Virgil told him, his own voice thick with emotion. "You'll do it to save his life. You'll do it so me and John –"

"Don't say it," Gordon whispered. He paused, before attempting to sway his brother again. "Please, Virgil, please, just try."

Virgil was silent a moment, head bowed, trying to find strength. "None of us are in any state to carry John and I can't – I won't leave him alone," he said with quiet determination. "But I'll do my best to bring him around. If he wakes, we'll follow you."

Virgil was aware it wasn't much of a promise, in fact he knew it was pitifully little, but it seemed to help Gordon. Sometimes his brothers' faith in his abilities staggered him. Virgil lifted his head once more, reaching out to place a hand against his brother's face.

"I'm counting on you to get everyone out alive."

Wordlessly, Gordon pulled Virgil into an embrace. Virgil held him tightly in return, eyes shut, before pushing him away.

"You'd better hurry," he urged.

Gordon wiped his eyes with the heel of his palm and stood, gaze straying to John's still form before coming back to rest on Virgil's upturned face. Trying to smile bravely, sharp angles that cut deep into his soul, he lifted a hand in farewell, before running into the mine's winding corridor.

Virgil watched his brother out of sight. Fighting tears, he closed his eyes against the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. Then, once more in control, he began the arduous task of dragging himself towards John.


	10. Chapter 10

**Well, its been a while, hasn't it? I'm really sorry for not updating any sooner, and I apologise to those wonderful people who sent me messages asking for another chapter - or, you know, an ending - for not getting back to them. Real life just doesn't flow in the way we would like, does it?**

**Once more, I would like to humbly remind my readers that the plot for this fic belongs to the writers of Supernatural, although I have changed things to suit my purpose. For those of you who haven't read this story before, or my other one, Back to Basics, I'd like to mention that yes, I am following the basic plotline, no the Winchesters, as much as I love them, don't appear and yes, these are not the Tracy boys you might recognise from their own show. **

**Now, done to the chapter. It's a little dark. I didn't expect this when I began writing it, I actually thought I was going to wrap up the story, but the boys and their angst demanded a little more time. I really hope, since it's been so long since I last delved into this, that I haven't messed it up! I can rely on you to tell me, right?**

**Finally - Enjoy!  
**

* * *

John was getting sick of himself. The mirror image was, well, mirroring him, running the same hand through his hair, only half a second later than John himself and it was, to be honest, driving him nuts. The other John was enjoying it, however, grinning widely with a smile that was all Gordon.

Following on the heels of that thought, the other John morphed into the copper haired Tracy.

"You done playing?" he asked cheerfully.

"Why are you here?" John asked warily.

Gordon shrugged. "Is that rhetorical? Why are any of us here?"

"I mean, why is there another conscious running around in my subconscious?"

"You think you're seeing another conscious? Doesn't that mean there's someone else inside your head?" Gordon suddenly grinned again. "You've finally proved it, Johnny-boy. You're such a genius, you're insane."

John tried again. "So you're a figment of my imagination?"

"Dunno," Gordon replied, glancing around at the darkness. "When you gonna break outta this joint?"

John sighed. Most other conversations had gone this way too. Intellectually, Johnwas sure what he was seeing were simply his mind's conjuring of his brothers, but being a psychic, he could hardly discount the possibility that someone was screwing with him. It was certainly interesting, if not a little frustrating, talking to his own mind, if that was the case instead. John shook his head. He was getting sidetracked exploring his mind when he should be focusing on getting out of it. Looking up, he saw the other John was back. Maybe his feelings reflected on which Tracy he saw, he mused.

The other John smiled knowingly and John wondered idly if his brother's ever felt the same urge to wipe the smug smile off his face when he was telling them the answers only he knew. It was infuriating, knowing the other John had answers and wasn't sharing them.

"C'mon, blondie," the second John taunted instead. "You know the way out. Think."

John sighed in frustration and tried to remember what he'd learned so far. It was easier to do this with Virgil, the ever patient Virgil, waiting for him. Gordon was too distracting, Scott was too intense and John, he'd found, was wise, but seemed a touch too competitive. The blond Tracy had been surprised to learn he was racing himself to the finish line.

Perhaps there was something to be said of the competitive nature of a middle child after all.

"What am I looking for?" John asked suddenly, disgusted at himself for letting his mind wander again.

The other John shook his head. "I can't answer that."

"Why not?" John demanded. "What's the point of you being here if you're not going to answer me?"

John smirked and flashed out of existence, replaced by Virgil again.

"John, you know the answer," he said slowly in that soft, sure way of his. His dark gaze locked with John's. "C'mon, Johnny."

Without breaking eye contact, John frowned, thinking hard. He'd been told little, but had his guesses confirmed or denied by various members of his family, and himself … yet only when he had been sure of the answer. John's eyes widened and Virgil smiled. They were giving him information he already knew.

"Christ," he whispered, staring off into the dark recesses of his own conscious. Unable to fully process the facts within his injured, fragile mind, he had supplied himself with a way to access them instead. He scared himself sometimes.

"Good, Johnny," Virgil's voice sounded crisper, more like Scott now and looking up, John saw his oldest brother's serious face. "Time to go."

"How?" John demanded and Scott scowled.

"I thought we'd established I couldn't answer that?"

"Sorry," John mumbled automatically. Even in his own mind, Scott could make him feel like a little boy. "It's _my _mind," he protested weakly.

Scott crossed his arms, waiting for John to make the first move. Typical Scott, not giving anything away.

"It's _my _mind," John told him again. "I should be in charge here."

Scott stared back at him. "So _be_ in charge."

* * *

Gordon stumbled through the corridor, bumping his shoulder against the wall and jolting backwards hard. He didn't care, continuing his helpless rush forward. It had taken every ounce of strength Gordon possessed to leave Virgil and John, and his body threatened total shut down. He couldn't stop; Gordon doubted he'd be able to get moving again if he did.

He understood Virgil's reasoning, and in the same predicament he hoped he'd have the courage to make the same choice, but his mind was screaming at him with the wrongness of his actions. He'd left his brother's to die.

Gordon thought it may very well have broken him.

He could feel his earlier orange juice threatening to make an appearance as his vision swam and his knees buckled suddenly. Pulling himself together sharply, Gordon struggled on. Virgil was making the ultimate sacrifice. The least he could do was ensure it wouldn't go to waste.

Eventually, he saw Scott and the others ahead. Hearing him, they turned, waiting for him to catch up. Gordon fought for control over his expression, clamping down on his emotions. Scott would never leave if he could see what it was doing to him and Gordon couldn't afford to get into a battle of wills with his oldest brother. Predictably, Scott's expression grew dark when he saw Gordon was alone.

"Where's Virgil and John?" he demanded, wincing at the volume of his own voice. Gordon had anticipated this. For someone who suffered concussions on a regular basis due to overuse of his telekinetic talents, sustaining one naturally was going to be harder to recover from. The more concussions, the harder to heal, Gordon's old WASP medical officer had once mentioned and Gordon knew Scott would be hurting badly and, more importantly, disorientated.

Unconsciously, Gordon straightened his spine. "They're coming," he lied, feeling another something shatter inside him. He cleared his throat to keep it steady and kept his words to a minimum. "They'll meet us before we get out."

Scott glanced down the way they had come and Gordon readied himself for the next lie, but Alan coughed miserably and provided all the distraction the red head needed.

"Come on," he urged, getting the group moving again. "We gotta get these people some medical attention."

Hayley and Gary hurriedly began helping Tommy through the mine once more, Alan following behind, tugging at Scott to get him moving, who still leaned on him. Gordon couldn't resist one final glance down the corridor where he'd left John and Virgil. Tears stung his eyes, but he swallowed thickly, hardening his resolve. He had promised Virgil he would see everyone safely off the mountain and he meant to do it. Firmly leaving his brother's behind, mentally instead of physically this time, Gordon hurried after the rest of the group.

They stopped once more as a low rumbling echoed down the corridor. The Wendigo was roaming.

* * *

John glared at Scott. Scott glared back, pushing him the way the real Scott would. He always showed his brother's the way, but never paved it for them. His brother's were their own men and would make or break themselves. Scott was simply a guide, a source of inspiration and advice, in the real world and in John's subconscious.

If it had been any one else, they would have been cajoling John to think. Scott simply stared, arms crossed and expression unforgiving. John ached for the Scott of his younger years, and suddenly this Scott was moving, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He still didn't say anything, but this time, he didn't need to. His support was there, as always and that spurred John into action. He liked thinking, he enjoyed puzzles and a race against the clock was always a thrill. This was no different.

"Alright," he said, glancing up at his older brother. "I'm gonna get us out of here."

Scott smiled. "I know you are."

John looked around them. "This is my mind," he muttered. "I'm not a prisoner, there's no bars, no locks and I can control what goes on in here. What I need is a door."

"Good," Scott approved. "Let's go."

John stood. "It's that easy?"

"It's your mind. You tell me."

John turned slowly on the spot. He couldn't see a door anywhere. Growling in frustration, he turned back to his mind's version of Scott.

"We're running out of time," the elder Tracy said seriously.

"I know. Do I imagine a door?"

"Whatever you're going to do, do it fast," Virgil told him. John blinked, wondering why his second oldest brother felt the need to make an appearance. Virgil, the gentlest man John had ever known, looked distraught. "Your organs are going to start shutting down … John, you're dying."

* * *

Virgil made it to John's side, awkwardly lifting his brother's head into his lap, ignoring his damaged leg and running his fingers through the blond hair, leaving crimson trails as a mark of their presence. He didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say. He trusted John knew he loved him and whatever secrets his brother may have been keeping were going with him to the grave now. There was no place in Virgil's heart for regrets or words left unspoken. He was as ready as he ever could be.

Methodically, Virgil began checking his brother's vitals, as best he could in the near dark, letting his thoughts skip through various memories, lingering on them for the briefest of moments before moving on to the next. He rested his fingertips against the pulse in John's throat, concerned at the sluggish rhythm and chill of his skin. Bending to bring his ear close to his brother's mouth, Virgil frowned at the irregular breaths escaping from between his lips.

Instinctively, Virgil went to settle John into an easier position to breathe but stopped himself short. Better this than the agony of being ripped apart by the Wendigo's long claws, to slip gently from life instead of having your soul torn from existence in a frenzy of violence. Virgil cradled John, watching the slow, uneven rise and fall of his chest with dry eyes.

His brother was dying in his arms, and against all expectations, he wasn't going to prevent it.

* * *

Scott glanced at his group. Nearly every member sported an injury or illness, something that collectively slowed their escape. They needed more time.

"Scott," Hayley hissed, terrified. "Come on!"

"Keep going," he told her, managing a reassuring smile. She looked positively sick with fear. "It's okay, just keep going."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, torn between Scott and Tommy. The man had barely said a word since he'd been reunited with his small family and Scott had privately winced at the amount of therapy he was going to need.

"I'm going to kill it," Scott told her with a confidence he didn't feel. "Gordon'll get you out of here."

"No," Gordon moaned softly, a horrific image of Virgil demanding his promise from him dancing before his eyes, but Scott leaned past him, capturing Hayley's attention with his electric eyes.

"It's gonna be okay," he promised. "Get your brothers to safety, I'll see you again."

Hayley looked unsure, but finally stood on her tip toes to press her lips against his.

"You'd better," she warned quietly. "I decided I like you after all."

Scott pressed his forehead to hers, unaware of any other person in the tunnel, his world narrowed down to the woman before him. "Get out of here," he urged, feeling the chill of the mine replace the warmth of her skin as she left him.

She tried to smile at him, but her lips trembled and a tear made its way down her cheek, glistening in the dark. Dashing it from her skin, she turned away from him and began to move her brothers further down the corridor.

Scott watched the small family go into the shadows, then glanced at Gordon, standing pale and ghostly beside him and down at Alan. The twelve year old looked drained, ready to drop and Scott reached for him. The boy buried his face in Scott's chest, emphatic abilities picking up the sense of loss from Scott.

"I want to go home," he whined, unsure what to make of his oldest brother's emotions, unable to understand what they meant. "Scotty, I really want to go home."

"I know, Allie," Scott murmured soothingly. He closed his eyes, placing the moment firmly into his mind before breaking the embrace reluctantly and turning to his red haired brother.

"Alan's your responsibility, he's your only thought," Scott told him quickly. "You get him to safety, even if it means risking your own. Understand?"

Miserably, Gordon nodded, feeling the frightened pre-teen edge closer to him.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm buying you some time."

"Us," Alan whispered. "You mean 'us', Scott."

Scott smiled for his youngest brother, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

"I need you to listen to Gordon, okay, Sprout?" he said. "What he says, goes."

Alan may have been young and sheltered, but he was far from stupid. He noticed the way his correction wasn't confirmed. Alan's voice trembled. "Scotty?"

"It's gonna be all right," Scott soothed, tracing Alan's cheek with the back of his fingers. "You'll see."

Gordon couldn't hold back any longer. "Scott, you can't go," he said, more forceful than he'd intended. He was aware of Alan staring wide eyed at him, no doubt picking up his emotions, or at least the strength of them, but ignored him.

"It won't be for long, Gords," Scott reassured him. "Just until Virgil and John catch up."

Gordon shook his head, the words sticking in his throat as he struggled to speak.

"You can't…"

Scott frowned. "Gordon, I need you to do this."

"You can't!" Gordon screamed, his world unravelling faster by the minute. "You're all that's left, Scotty."

"All that's left?"

Gordon looked distinctly unwell. "Virgil …" his voice caught and he gazed at his brother pleadingly.

"Gords?"

"Virgil couldn't wake John," Gordon admitted quietly. "They're not coming."

"You left them," Scott said flatly, his voice low and as quiet as his brother's. Gordon stepped back.

"I couldn't … I didn't have a choice."

Scott glared at him. "There's always a choice," he said coldly.

"Scott," Gordon began, but his brother cut him off.

"Get Alan off the mountain."

Without another word, Scott moved past his stunned brothers and unsteadily back into the deepest part of the mine.


End file.
